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The girl, who was intently examining the bag, delayed a moment. It 
was a fatal delay, for suddenly a powerful hand gripped her shoulder. 
— See page 7. 




TRANSPLANTED 


BY 


FANNIE E. NEWBERRY 


r 



BOSTON AND CHICAGO 
CTongregattonal ^unliag^cfjool antf Sorietg 



Copyright, 1889, by 

Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society. 

jZ. ^ 7 ^ 6 '^ 


C. J. PETERS & SON, 
Typographers and Electrotypers, 
146 High Street, Boston. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter. Page. 

I. The Arrest and Sentence 5 

II. First Days in the School 23 

III. Rebellion 35 

IY. At Miss Patty’s 43 

Y. Hew Impressions and Friends 54 

YI. Sunday-School and Bessie 63 

VII. Temptations and Tea-Parties 81 

VIII. A Meeting with Old and Hew Friends . 102 

IX. A Picnic, and Bert’s Story 123 

X. A Flower Mission and its Results ... 138 

XI. A Great Surprise 155 

XII. A Visit to Old Scenes 172 

XIII. Jacqueline’s Birthday 188 

XIY. Taking a Stand 200 

XY. The Y. M. C. A. Entertainment .... 215 

XYI. A Year’s Events 227 

XVII. To the Mountains 245 

XVIII. Some Hew Acquaintances 262 

- XIX. Being and Doing 276 

XX. Webber’s First Patient 296 

XXI. Jacqueline’s Hobby 312 

XXII. An Old-Fashioned Christmas 336 

XXIII. Pains and Pleasures of Wealth .... 352 
XXIV. Jacqueline’s Ride 363 

XXV. Conclusion 377 


5 


“ e call tfjem focebs ; tiiU foe tfjeir forms but stubg, 
WLt mang a secret mtgfjt unfolbeb finb — 

SEarij ting plant fulfills its fjeaben4augfjt mission, 
&nb bears tfje impress of Emmortal ilftinb. 

&nb in lobe’s soil, if foe but ftinblg nourish 
^Tfjese fragile things, fjaixr strangelg tfjeg unfolb : 
tZTfje foagsibe foeeb is nofo a batntg blossom, 

&nb breatfjes fine perfume from its Ijeart of golb.” 


TRANSPLANTED. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 

It was a rather dreary prospect, and so it seemed 
to strike the girl who stood on the dirty steps, and 
looked discontentedly up and down the street — 
street by courtesy only; for its mud and filth, its 
mutilated pavements, and dilapidated tenements, 
made it little worthy the name. Yet it had once 
set out to be something grand, and many of the 
buildings, now lop-sided and tumbling to decay, still 
bore traces of original splendor ; while here and there 
a tree, having toughly withstood the abuses which 
had killed off its brethren, gave mute token of the 
rows of shade which had once made the roadway 
beautiful. 

But of all this cool shade, cleanliness, and even 
grandeur, nothing now remained but the name — 
Gem Street — and that had grown to be so entirely 
associated with poverty, squalor, and sin, that few 
even thought what it might originally have meant. 

5 


6 


TRANSPLANTED. 


The street, poor as it was, meant home to the girl 
on the steps, however, and its very familiarity took 
away most of the disagreeableness in her sight. So 
her discontented look had nothing to do with her sur- 
roundings, after all, for she was only thinking, — 

“ Now I’ve got a minute to myself, I want some 
fun — but what kin I dew? Thar ain’t nobody 
around, and I can’t think of nothin’ ! ” 

She came slowly down the steps, hopping like a 
bird from one to another, with long pauses between, 
till, just as she reached the sidewalk, a quick change 
came over her face, and, with a loud “ Ki yi ! Hello 
there ! ” she was off, up the street. 

“ What’s the row ? ” she asked breathlessly, as she 
reached the corner, around which two boys had just 
come with a bound. They stopped, and drew long, 
laboring breaths, for they had been running hard. 

“Made a raise ! ” gasped one, at length. “ And got 
chased by a cop ! ” added the other, “ but we’ve 
doubled till we’ve throwed him off the scent, I guess. 
Here ! take the swag, and hide it — quick ! ” and he 
thrust into her hand a lady’s handsome shopping-bag, 
its handle wrenched from the silver fastenings, as if 
it had been torn asunder by some powerful strain. 

“ Did you grab it, Mike ? ” she asked, with wide, 
admiring eyes, and, as he nodded in answer, she broke 
into a delighted laugh. “Well, if you ain’t the 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 


7 


pluckiest ! Won’t this make Ma’am good-natured, 
though ! Let’s tease fur dumplin’s to-night — will 
ye, boys ? ” 

“ Dumplin’s is good, but steak’s better ; and thar’s 
plenty fur both in that alligator-hide thing,” said the 
larger boy, whom she addressed as Mike. “Drat 
them cops — they most got us, Nick ! ” 

“You bet ! and we’d better get inside purty quick, 
or they may turn up agin,” answered the smaller of 
the two, hurrying along. 

Mike followed at a good pace, but the girl, who 
was intently examining the bag, delayed a moment, 
feeling quite secure so near home. 

It was a fatal delay, for suddenly a powerful hand 
gripped her shoulder, whirling her forcibly about, till 
she faced that symbol of all dread and majesty to 
her — a policeman. 

She gave a yell like a startled wild cat, and 
wrenched herself free with a sudden jerk, but only 
for a second. Again came that grip firm as iron, 
grasping her tender flesh like some dreadful vise, 
and, hardened as she was to bodily punishment, 
making her feel deadly sick. 

“ None of that, you baggage ! ” muttered the officer 
fiercely. “ I’ve got you now, and you don’t get away 
so easy ; come on ! ” 

She gave one despairing look around. The boys 


8 


TRANSPLANTED. 


had disappeared ; the street, often a-swarm with its 
many inmates, now seemed as silent as the dead. 
She was alone, and helpless, in the grasp of the 
law ; and this, to her, meant simply prison, and what 
ever unknown horrors lurked behind its walls. Most 
children of twelve would have burst into tears and 
pleadings — some might have fainted ; but, though 
she turned deathly pale, she made no sound — only 
her eyes, quick and fiercely bright as a ferret's in a 
trap, darted here and there, as if looking for some 
loop-hole of escape. 

None came, however, and, with a quickness which 
took her breath away, she was raced to the nearest 
police-station, and led in before the blue-coated men 
who lounged around the open door that mild May 
morning. 

She did not shiver, nor shrink, though a terrible 
fear gripped her heart, and her glittering, defiant eyes 
caused one to remark, sotto voce , — 

“ A regular limb, evidently ! ” 

With a word or two of explanation to the officer in 
charge, the child and the bag were both delivered 
over to him, and the man of buttons who had ar- 
rested her turned with a relieved air to his friends, 
and was soon chatting pleasantly over a fresh cigar. 

Meanwhile, his little charge was led through an 
iron gate into a corridor, half filled with wretched 


TEE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 


9 


beings, who greeted the new arrival with a shout of 
derisive laughter. But, neither looking to the right 
nor left, she went into the furthest corner, and, seat- 
ing herself on the stone bench, turned her face to the 
wall in grim, unchildlike shame and silence. 

No, — hardly shame, either; the dreadful life she 
had lived had crowded that feeling out of her heart. 
How could she be ashamed of doing what she had 
been trained to do for years ? 

Her feeling was, rather, disgusted rage at having 
allowed herself to be caught in this manner, with a 
deep hatred, and desire for revenge on all and every- 
body — the officers who had deprived her of liberty, 
the boys who had left her to her fate, and these 
beings who had mocked and jeered at her. 

But after a little, the very quietude of her body 
stilled the tumult in her soul, and she began to think 
more reasonably; to remember, too, in a disjointed 
way, bits of her life which came like pictures to her 
mind. She saw the bare, dreary house where she 
ate and slept, and which was presided over by 
“ Ma’am,” who furnished an excuse for bed and 
board, for a sum proportionately small, to the poorest 
specimens of humanity, keeping this child to help 
with the work. 

At least, this was the way things were explained 
to outsiders; but she knew well what a nest of 


10 


TRANSPLANTED. 


thieves the house-roof covered, how apt were the 
lessons taught there, and how frequently spoils were 
brought in. She could see Ma’am’s fierce, disap- 
pointed eyes when her pupils came home empty- 
handed, and hear her deep guttural notes of satisfac- 
tion when they came well laden. 

It had been a hard life, with constant toil and fre- 
quent blows, but there had been many half-hours of 
wild, boisterous fun — of racing through the street, 
flinging balls of mud or snow, or teasing some 
drunken wretch, who had tumbled by the sidewalk ; 
or perhaps chasing a dog who had lost its owner — 
lawless, hateful fun, all of it. But once — and the 
memory brought almost a smile to her lips even now 
— there had been a time which seemed like a slice 
out of heaven, (only she had never heard of heaven) 
when she had been knocked down by a runaway 
horse, and taken to the hospital. 

She was not badly hurt, and only stayed three days, 
but one of those was flower-mission day. Oh ! how 
plainly she could still see those flowers by her bed- 
side, and smell the delicious fragrance that filled the 
big, clean room ! They let her take the flowers with 
her when she went home, and she kept them till they 
fell to pieces in the broken mug of water, where she 
placed them. 

How beautiful they were ! How willingly she 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 


11 


would be knocked down again, just to feel once more 
that clean, sweet bed, and see and smell those ex- 
quisite blossoms. She sighed softly to the prison- 
wall, and her thoughts went further back, to one 
scene so remote it was like a dream. She saw her 
mother on a bed, and her face was different from all 
the faces she had known since : pure and white and 
shining, and again she heard her say : — 

“ Oh, my darling ! I must leave you to God. He 
will keep you.” 

She remembered the words, but they meant very 
little to her, now. She had never heard of God, 
except in curses and ribald jests ; and the one she 
seemed to have been left to was only Ma’am — the 
dreadful woman whom she served from fear alone, 
and secretly hated with her whole heart. 

But, somehow, these thoughts brought a sense of 
comfort and quiet, which made her body relax a little 
from its tense strain, and her head droop more easily 
against the prison-wall ; then her thoughts grew con- 
fused, and melted into quainter fancies — and the 
poor, little, world-worn soul was fast asleep. 

It was a cruel awakening to a lonely cell where 
she found herself lying on a bare pallet, whither she 
had been carried by some one in her sleep. For a 
time, her fears and loneliness quite overcame her, and 
she burst into a passion of tears, — healthy, childish 


12 


TRANSPLANTED. 


tears, that relieved heart and brain. But it was not 
yet evening, and the night that followed seemed end- 
less to the child. Occasionally its uneasy quiet was 
broken by a drunken scuffle, or a ribald bit of song, as 
some new offender was brought in ; but, being used to 
these things, she did not mind them very much. 

As for her bed, it was as good as, or better than, she 
had at Ma’am’s, so, despite her anxiety over the mor- 
row, she at last fell asleep about midnight, and did 
not wake till morning. It was a new experience to 
be led to a hydrant, and made to wash her face, and 
she hated the touch of the cold, clear water ; but her 
breakfast tasted good, and the worst of her dread 
and terror had worn off, so she was quite composed 
when told to follow an officer into the court room. 

The justice eyed her through his spectacles, as she 
was led to a seat beneath his desk, with an air of 
grieved surprise ; the lawyers and reporters stopped 
talking for a minute to scan her more closely, and 
two or three even felt a thrill of pity for the poor 
little waif, used as they were to sin and wrong. 

What they saw,, as they looked, was a slight figure 
in a torn and faded calico, and a small white face, 
framed in dark, loosely curled and tangled locks, 
whose features were pinched and thin, while the 
great brown eyes seemed strangely disproportioned to 
the rest of the face. A pitiful sight, indeed, in such 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE . 


13 


a place, and made still more so by the hard, defiant 
look, which robbed it of all childishness or grace. 

The officer who had arrested her made his com- 
plaint, charging her with theft and vagrancy, she 
meanwhile looking at him as if she could spring upon 
him like some wild beast; then the justice turned 
to the little prisoner, — 

“ These are grave charges, my child ! ” he said in a 
gentle tone, which made her turn her brown eyes up- 
on him with a curious stare. “ Do you plead guilty, 
or not guilty ? ” 

“ Not ! ” she said, fiercely. “ I never stealed that 
bag — ’twas Mike an’ Nick as done it, an’ you’ll find 
’em at No. 13 Gem Street, — the villains ! ” 

Her voice was so decided and vindictive as she 
gave this information, that some of the officers 
smiled, while the justice questioned her more closely. 

But, in spite of all his diplomacy, he could elicit 
nothing against Ma’am herself; nor, indeed, any of 
the members of her household, except these two. 
They were the ones who had betrayed and deserted 
her, and punish them she would, if possible ; but she 
had no present grudge against the others — let them 
go ! 

The end of it was that she was declared a vagrant, 
and receiver of stolen property, and the justice, 
feeling that he was doing it for her own good, 


14 


TRANSPLANTED . 


sentenced her to the Reform School at A for 

three years. 

Those of us who only see the brighter side of life 
can scarcely understand what feelings came over the 
poor, unlovely child as she heard this sentence 
There were but two things in life she really cared for 

— her liberty, and plenty to eat ; but two things she 
really feared — Ma’am’s wrath, and the terrors of the 
law. Yet Ma’am’s whippings could not last long, if 
they did come often, and she was generally a trifle 
kinder after them for a day or two — but what would 
it be in a Reform School ? 

She looked from face to face — there was no re- 
lenting ! The justice was already occupied with an- 
other case ; each man was busy with his own affairs 

— what was this child to them ? And now, the 
officer touched her shoulder. 

“ Come,” he said, and mechanically she went with 
him, her soul in a tempest of despairing rage, but her 
face was as non-committal as ever. 

She could get no comfort anywhere, except in one 
dreadful thought : she hoped that her information 
against Mike and Nick would send them, too, to 
prison — if not, she would do them a worse injury, 
some day ; and this wicked thirst for revenge really 
helped her to be brave under her own heavy trial ! 

Do you think her almost too bad for me to make a 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 


15 


heroine of ? Yet would you be any better if you had 
been brought up with thieves for companions, and 
absolutely no knowledge of good; and if, above all, 
you had never known what love meant? I think 
not. 

It was about two o’clock that afternoon, when the 
sheriff and his charge boarded the train for an hour’s 

ride to A and the latter, who had never been in a 

railway car before, was quite taken out of herself by 
the novelty of all she saw. Sitting next a window 
she was soon absorbed by the view outside. The 
sight of the wide, open country was utterly new to 
her, and she now saw it at its loveliest ; not a great 

expanse, to be sure, for A was but a suburb of 

the larger place, but enough to see broad fields of 
sprouting wheat and timothy, their tender green con- 
trasting with the rich fresh loam just upturned by 
the plow, — enough to see orchards just bursting into 
bloom, whose wonderful beauty made her give a de- 
lighted exclamation, and turn to the sheriff with a 
smile on her face which quite transfigured it. He 
dropped the paper he had been reading, and looked at 
her with an answering smile. He was a man of 
kindly nature, but he had not been attracted by the 
sullen, hard-faced child, and had scarcely spoken to 
her before — now he said, pleasantly, — 

“ You like the country ? ” 


16 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Is this country ? ” she asked, wonderingly. 

“ Of course ; haven’t you ever been out of town 
before ? ” 

She shook her head, and turned back to the win- 
dow, unwilling to lose one instant’s sight of the love- 
liness without. By and by, however, she was aware 
of a certain fresh, sweet odor which brought the hos- 
pital powerfully to mind, and, turning quickly, saw a 
boy coming down the aisle of the car with a basket of 
flowers on his arm. She leaned forward, watching 
him with intent eagerness, while the sheriff also 
watched her furtively, from behind his paper. The 
boy passed by, and an intensely disappointed look came 
into the little face, as she caught the sheriff’s eye. 

“ Pretty, aren’t they ? ” he remarked in a careless 
tone. “ Do you like flowers ? ” 

“Oh, yes ! Won’t they give us any ? They did to 
the hospital ! ” she answered, naively. 

He laughed with good-natured amusement, and 
called out, — 

“ Here, boy ! Come back ! How much for a bunch 
of pansies ? ” 

“ A dime, sir.” 

“ All right — give us one ! ” and selecting a fine 
bunch, the officer handed it to the amazed child. 

“ They’re for you, my girl,” he said kindly. “ I’m 
glad you like flowers ; it’s a good sign ! ” 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 


IT 


It was the first time in her life that she had been 
made the recipient of a gift, and nothing could have 
so greatly surprised her. The words “ Thank you ! ” 
were strange to her tongue, but the strong feeling of 
gratitude which, for the first time, filled her heart, 
must have some expression. She looked from the 
flowers to the man, and a softened light came into 
her brown eyes, which made them seem beautiful, as 
she said, earnestly, — 

“ I like you ! ” 

Her tone and manner made the words mean a great 
deal, and the man of law plainly showed the pleasure 
they gave him. When they left the car, her hand 
rested quietly in his, while the other tenderly 
grasped the precious flowers — and so the first ray of 
light and love entered the child’s heart on the very 
day she was deprived of her liberty, and consigned to 
what had seemed, in anticipation, a dreadful prison- 
house. 

From the train they stepped into the Eeform 
School wagon, which was awaiting them, driven by 
an old negro, who showed his teeth in a broad grin at 
sight of the sheriff and his charge. 

Turning from the town — to her great content — 
they made for the open country where, after a mile 
ride, they came in sight of a cluster of pretty, Queen 
Anne shaped buildings of red brick, scattered here 


18 


TRANSPLANTED. 


and there in a large, park-like inclosure, with hand- 
some drive-ways, and the greenest of lawns, sloping 
gently to the road. 

They turned in at the gate, and drove to the cen- 
tral, and largest building which faced the main 
drive, stopping before its door. The little girl, who 
had been thinking it was a very fine place, looked at 
her new friend, questioningly. 

“Yes, this is the school,’’ he said, answering her 
look, and lifting her out as he spoke : “ You’ll find 

lots of flowers, too ! ” he added, kindly. 

They went inside the broad doors, through a tiled 
hall, into a large, handsome room, where a lady of 
fine presence met them, her white hair waving back 
from a strong, clear-cut face, and her rich, black dress 
fitting well her compact figure. 

She shook hands with the sheriff, then looked down 
at the child. 

“ So young ! ” she said, in a pitying tone ; then, 
more briskly : “Well, we’ll try and make a woman of 
her ! ” 

Then they passed into a smaller private office, and, 
seating herself at a desk, the lady superintendent 
opened a large book, took up a pen, and asked, — 

“ What is the name ? ” 

“ Jack Silsby,” said the sheriff. 

The lady stopped, her pen suspended in mid-air. 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE . 


19 


“ J ack ! ” she said, a little sharply, “ that’s no name 
for a girl ! What’s your real name, child — don’t 
you know ? ” 

The girl slowly shook her head, struggling with 
some memory, which eluded her like a dream. 

“ It’s Jack ;_that’s what ’tis,” she said perplexedly, 
but with an air of truth which made the lady look at 
her closely. “Jack — Jack — ’’she mused; “there 
are names — let me see! Jacquette, Jacqueline — 
could it be ” — 

But the brown eyes looked up eagerly. 

“ I know — it’s that — she said it — mamma did ! ” 
and the struggle for the elusive memory, with the 
strange sound of “mamma” on her lips, brought a 
little flush to her cheeks. 

“ Which ? ” asked the lady, watching her intently. 

“Jack — leen,” she said, stammering over the 
Frenchy syllable ; “ it’s that, sure ! ” 

So she was booked with the pretentious name of 
Jacqueline Silsby, her age guessed at as twelve years, 
eyes and hair dark, health generally good, etc., etc. 

“You will have to begin in cottage F,” said the 
superintendent, in her business tone, “ and work your 
way up. A is our Honor Cottage, and when you get 
there, you’ll have especial privileges. You will be 
treated well, so long as you behave yourself, and 
obey the rules, and I hope soon to see you promoted.” 


20 


TRANSPLANTED. 


As the lady began, she had touched an electric but- 
ton in the wall, and. now a girl appeared at the door, 
and waited her will with a respectful air. 

She was tall and sallow, with mild gray eyes, and 
was dressed in a plain, dark -blue calico, with a white 
neckerchief of spotless purity folded across her 
bosom. 

“Take this girl to F,” said the superintendent, 
designating Jacqueline, who started to follow, then 
stopped, and turned to the sheriff. 

He had already made a move toward her, and now 
held out his hand. Jacqueline put hers within it, 
and looked up into the rugged, fatherly face. Some- 
thing struggled in her soul for utterance — something 
of the new and better feelings which his kindness 
had awakened in her, but she had no words for 
these, so she fell back on the old sentence. 

“ I like you ! ” she repeated, with her wistful eyes 
looking into his. “ Good-by ! ” 

“ Good-by, my dear ! ” he said, almost tenderly, giv- 
ing her hand a warm pressure, and his eyes followed 
her, as she reluctantly left the room. 

He had children of his own, and something like 
moisture came into his eyes now, as he turned again 
to the lady. 

“ That’s twice she’s said that, to-day, Mrs. Hunger- 
ford; the poor child’s got good in her somewhere, 


THE ARREST AND SENTENCE. 


21 


I’m sure, for she is so easily impressed by kindness 
— and you never saw anybody so crazy over flowers ! 
Well, she’ll be better off here ! ” — and the two 
were soon deep in official talk. 

Meanwhile, Jacqueline followed her guide through 
a back corridor, down a flight of outside steps, and 
along a winding path, to that one of the Queen Anne 
cottages furthest from the road. Across its front was 
a broad piazza, with a door in the center, and long, 
double windows on either side. 

Over the door, which was ajar, was a big gilded F, 
and, as they stepped under it a bell rang sharply 
in some inner room. Then a door opened upon the 
right of the hall, and a lady stepped forward. 

She was plump and fair, but had an anxious line 
between her eyes, which made her look rather stern. 
Jacqueline’s conductress bowed, saying, — 

“The new inmate, ma’am,” and turning, disap- 
peared at once, while Jacqueline followed the lady 
into a parlor, which she thought the prettiest place 
she had ever seen. 

“What is your name ? ” asked the manager. 

“ Jack-leen Silsby,” answered the child, and took 
the seat assigned her. The lady smiled. 

“ Something of a mouthful ! You will be known 
here as No. 27 ” — and stepping to an inner door, she 
called : “ Mrs. Kenneth ! ” 


22 


TRANSPLANTED. 


A comfortable-looking woman appeared, to whom 
she said, briskly, — 

“New inmate — Jacqueline Silsby — No. 27 — I 
give her into your hands/ 7 and again the poor child, 
now utterly weary, obediently followed. 

They crossed the hall, and went up a broad, slip- 
pery flight of waxed stairs, then down another corri- 
dor, and turned into a large and well-equipped bath- 
room. Here, poor Jacqueline was put through such 
a scrubbing as she had never even dreamed of, and 
then, exhausted, yet strangely enough half rested as 
well, was seated in a chair, and her heavy locks 
shingled tight to her round little head. 

This operation finished, she was clothed in a garb 
exactly like that of the girl whom she had lately 
seen, and conducted back to the manager’s room. 

All this had made Jacqueline look so pale and 
weary that the lady noticed it, and said, more kindly 
than she had yet spoken, — 

“ It is half an hour to supper. Lie down on that 
sofa, and rest.” 

Nothing loath, the child did as bidden, and, in five 
minutes, was sound asleep. 


CHAPTER II. 


FIRST DAYS IN THE SCHOOL. 

When she woke, the room was in shadow, but a 
light shone in from the hall, and there came to her 
ears the sound of singing, somewhere beyond. 

Such singing was entirely new to her. The words 
“ Jesus, lover of my soul,” conveyed actually no 
meaning to her brain, but the sweet air made the 
tears rush swiftly to her eyes. She raised herself on 
her elbow, and looked all about her — at the pretty, 
bright room, now but dimly lighted through the open 
doorway, — at the clean, trim dress she wore, — then 
she felt of her smooth, cropped head, and lying back 
again with a certain sense of luxurious content, let 
the music float through her brain, while it began to 
dawn upon her that this might not be the awful place 
she had imagined it — that there might, perhaps, be 
ways of living better than she had known, — and 
something like a dim hope stirred in her heart. 

She heard brisk steps in the hall then, and Mrs. 
Kenneth’s voice said, — 

“But she hasn’t had her supper, Miss Amhurst.” 

“I know,” was answered in the manager’s voice, 
23 


24 


TRANSPLANTED . 


“ but she was so evidently worn out, I wouldn’t waken 
her. We’d better, now, though; Mrs. Granger has 
saved her some supper, I believe. Poor child ! I feel 
sorry for her,” which words were a new surprise to 
the listening girl. 

Then Miss Amhurst, entering, lighted the gas, and 
seeing her charge was awake, said quietly, — 

“ You may get up now, and have your supper ; 
Mrs. Kenneth will show you the way.” 

So Jacqueline ate her big bowl of bread and milk, 
alone in a great dining-room, where plates were laid 
for forty at least, and thought in her sharp hunger, 
she had never tasted any thing so good ; after which 
she followed the matron upstairs to a door in a side 
corridor, upon which, in black letters, was painted her 
own new number — 27. 

“ Here is your room,” said the matron, briefly ; 
“ good-night ! ” and Jacqueline was gently thrust in, 
while the door shut with a snap that locked it fast. 

She stood, and looked about her a moment, for a 
dim light from the corridor shone in through the 
grated transom above the door, and disclosed a 
very small, cell-like room, with bare, polished floor, 
narrow iron bedstead, draped in spotless white, one 
small table and chair, and a grated window opposite 
the door. Across the bed lay a coarse white night- 
dress, whose use she had learned at the hospital, and 


FIRST DAYS IN THE SCHOOL. 


25 


now, with a strange mixture of feelings — a certain 
sense of injury at being kept here against her will, 
struggling with the conviction that it was a better 
home than she had ever known before — she prepared 
herself for the night, and, creeping in between the 
cool sheets, lay for a little time broad awake, but 
strangely quiet, and free from hateful thoughts, till 
gentle sleep closed the brown eyes over a softer, more 
satisfied expression, than they had worn for a long 
time. 

Jacqueline woke to one of those mornings which, 
dawn upon us, now and then, to revive our hopes of 
heaven. The air was balm ; the sky, one broad, blue 
smile ; the trees, a bouquet of bloom ; the birds, riot- 
ous with delight — but in her spotless cell she could 
get only a glimpse of it all. A great bell, booming 
somewhere, had awakened her, and she hastened to 
dress, with that same odd mixture of expectation and 
angry rebellion with which she had gone to sleep. 

Indeed, her soul had unconsciously entered upon a 
new era — the waters of life were stirring from their 
long, ice-bound sleep ; if the sunshine of love should 
fall upon them, they would sparkle into life and 
beauty, and rise in mists to heaven ; but if the freez- 
ing breath of indifference, injustice, and wrong were 
to touch them, they would congeal again into hard, 
cold inaction and despair. 


26 


TRANSPLANTED. 


She dressed, and waited with angry impatience, 
scowling fiercely at the locked door, and when it flew 
open at the matron’s touch, she sprang out, much like 
a rat from a trap. 

“Try that over again,” said Mrs. Kenneth’s cool 
voice ; and Jacqueline, who had been taught subjec- 
tion, if not obedience (for true obedience must come 
from the heart), went sullenly back, and came forth 
in a more leisurely way. 

“ Stand there,” said Mrs. Kenneth, placing her with 
her back to the door, and, glancing down the corridor, 
Jacqueline saw that before nearly every other door 
stood a girl, in like position. 

Some time passed — it seemed five minutes to 
Jacqueline, but was probably not more than two, 
waiting minutes are so long! — when — boom went 
the big bell again, at the sound of which every girl 
turned, as if on a pivot, and faced the stair-way. 

Jacqueline turned with the rest, and suddenly the 
line began to move. She moved with it, conscious 
that Mrs. Kenneth was by her side, and so, in perfect 
silence, they marched to the bath-room, where each 
girl, in turn, made her ablutions; then, at another 
boom, stepped briskly down the stairs, and the length 
of the lower hall, to the long dining-room, which 
crossed the house in the rear. 

Here, still following, Jacqueline found herself 


FIRST DAYS IN THE SCHOOL. 


27 


within the long bench at the side of the cleanly- 
scrubbed, but undraped, pine table, opposite a bright 
tin plate and cup, before which, at the tap of a hand- 
bell, she seated herself with the rest, — for she was 
quick to observe and imitate, and somehow, this 
morning, felt a certain pride in showing this ability, 
always keeping in reserve the power to annoy by all 
sorts of grave misconduct should she choose. 

So, when the rest bowed their heads in a silent 
blessing, she bowed, too, though without an inkling 
of its meaning, and as Jacqueline looked up, she 
found Mrs. Kenneth’s eyes resting kindly upon her, 
and knew she was pleased. 

The meal was plain, but better than she had ever 
known before, and she ate with a rude relish that 
plainly showed her neglected breeding. Once, Mrs. 
Kenneth gave her a long look, when she had substi- 
tuted her fingers for a knife and fork, and, though the 
offender’s eyes snapped defiance, she did not so 
greatly transgress again. 

For, somehow, back of all the sordidness of her 
past, was a faint, far memory of something fine and 
good, which came to her at times like an instinct — 
at others like a flash of memory. 

For instance, once when Ma’am, in a sudden fit of 
decency, had told her sharply to pull up her stock- 
ings, and tie her shoes, she had paused in the act, 


28 


TRANSPLANTED. 


and with her eyes growing large and thoughtful had 
said, in a dreamy tone, — 

“ They used to be that way all the time, seems to 
me.” 

The same feeling came over her this morning — 
this orderly eating used to be the rule once, but 
where ? Certainly not at Ma’am’s rude, boisterous 
table ! Was it, then, in some other life ? she won- 
dered, and her face grew soft, as it always did when 
these puzzling fancies came to her, giving it for a 
brief space the childish grace it so sadly lacked at 
other times. 

Breakfast over, another tap brought the girls to 
their feet again, after which they filed out in regular 
order, each one going about the morning task as- 
signed her. 

In this institution (w T hich, though a real one in suc- 
cessful operation, may seem somewhat different from 
ordinary reform schools to the most of our readers) 
the entire work outside and in, with a few exceptions, 
was performed by the girls themselves, under the 
direction of the lady officers ; the only men on the 
place being the old negro before mentioned, who took 
charge of the steam engine used in heating the build- 
ings, and the stable ; also a New England farmer, 
who lived with his family in a pretty, rose-embowered 
cottage near the gates, and attended to the heaviest 


FIRST DAYS IN THE SCHOOL. 


29 


of the farm work. The planting, hoeing, weeding, 
raking, garden-making and milking, with all in-door 
work, was, however, performed entirely by the in- 
mates. 

It was, emphatically, a girl’s reformatory, only 
those between the ages of ten and twenty-five being 
received, and J acqueline was, at present, the youngest 
pupil there. 

Every cottage was built to accommodate about fift} r , 
and was presided over by the manager, matron, and 
housekeeper ; the two former acting also as teachers 
during school hours, while the latter attended only to 
the household management. 

You have been with Jacqueline in the manager’s 
parlor, behind which two bed-rooms accommodated 
herself and the matron ; on the other side of the hall 
was the large school-room, with folding chairs and 
desks, which could be easily put out of the way when 
it was to be converted into a play-room, for some fes- 
tive occasion ; back of the hall was the long dining- 
room crossing the house, and, still beyond were 
kitchen, pantries, etc. 

Above the parlor was the housekeeper’s pleasant 
chamber, and above the front part of the study-hall 
was a sewing-room, with shelves for work, and three 
busy sewing-machines, clicking all day in making 
and mending for the inmates ; the rest of this floor, 


30 


TRANSPLANTED. 


and one above, being divided into tbe tiny cell-like 
bedrooms, where each girl slept alone, — the whole 
being kept as neat as toil and soap could make them. 

As the line filed into the hall, after breakfast, Miss 
Amhurst touched Jacqueline’s shoulder, and, follow- 
ing her beckoning finger, the child stepped into the 
pretty parlor. 

“ I am told you like flowers,” said the lady, in her 
brusque way, “and, when possible, we always give 
our pupils such work as is agreeable to them.” 

Jacqueline’s face showed her pleasure, and she 
continued, — 

“ Come ! I’ll show you your duties,” then led 
the girl into a garden beside the cottage, — a real, 
old-fashioned flower garden, with beds, round, rec- 
tangular, and crescent-shaped, interspersed by narrow 
walks, with a sentinel-like bush of roses, syringa, or 
scarlet japonica placed here and there, while borders 
of coleus, pinks, box, and portulaca, outlined the beds. 

It was too early for many flowers to be in bloom, 
but a few crocuses and tulips held up their proud 
heads, and there was a scent of violets in the air. 
Two girls were silently at work in different parts, 
and the manager soon designated Jacqueline’s place 
and task, — then, bringing a camp-chair into the 
small balcony overlooking the garden, she seated her- 
self comfortably, with a book, to oversee the work. 


FIRST DATS IN THE SCHOOL. 


31 


It was a novel experience for Jacqueline, and her 
heart grew light as she turned up the sweet, fresh 
earth with her trowel, and picked out the bits of 
green weeds which seemed to her far too pretty to be 
cast away ; till, after a little, quite forgetting her 
surroundings, she suddenly burst out, shrilly, — 

“ Oh, a snake ! ” 

“ Silence ! ” said Miss Amhurst, imperatively, step- 
ping forward, and leaning over the balcony-railing — 
then an involuntary smile flitted across her lips, for 
No. 27’s snake proved to be nothing worse than an 
enormous angle-worm, which was already rapidly 
wriggling its way back into the earth. 

“ That’s a perfectly harmless worm — do not speak 
again, except in answer to one of the officers, No. 27 ,* 
it is against the rules,” and she reseated herself. 

Now Jacqueline had always been a sociable child, 
and this command fell upon her like a thunderbolt. 

Not speak at all ! Why, she had already made up 
her mind which girls she could “have fun with,” 
when she got acquainted, and now that was all 
nipped in the bud by this stern interdict ! 

“ I will talk, though ! ” she thought rebelliously, 
“ I’d like to see ’em stop my tongue — the fools ! ” 
and she returned to her work, with a heavy scowl 
darkening the bright face of a few moments before. 

Breakfast was eaten at six o’clock, so there was 


32 


TRANSPLANTED. 


quite a long intermission before the first school-bell 
rang at a quarter to nine, and Jacqueline’s back ached 
almost as it used to after a busy day at Ma’am’s, as 
she straightened herself in imitation of the other 
girls, at its summons, and, obeying Miss Amhurst’s 
gesture of command, followed them indoors. 

Mrs. Kenneth stood in the lower hall, whose 
polished floor was still damp from its fresh scrub- 
bing. 

“ Go to the bath-room, and clean yourselves,’’ she 
ordered curtly — “ then attend to your rooms ; don’t 
waste a minute ! ” and something in the tone seemed 
to leave no loop-hole for disobedience. 

So Jacqueline washed hands and face for the 
second time that morning, — feeling it a most un- 
necessary ceremony, too ! — then, with Mrs. Kenneth 
at her elbow, tried to make her bed. But this was 
new work indeed to one whose heap of straw and 
ragged comforter had hitherto received little or no at- 
tention ; three times Mrs. Kenneth deliberately tore 
off the clothes, making her try again, — and nothing 
but an intense curiosity to know what was coming 
next in this strange, orderly household kept her from 
breaking out in open rebellion. 

At length this arduous task was ended, and she 
was again made to stand in front of her door, until 
the line was formed and marched into the school- 


FIRST DAYS IN THE SCHOOL. 


33 


room, which, was so large and light it fairly dazzled 
her eyes as she entered. 

The forty odd girls were soon in their seats, and 
the school was opened with prayer and singing. The 
former was quite unintelligible to Jacqueline, but, as 
the young voices rose in “ Nearer my God to Thee,” 
the sweet strains thrilled along her childish nerves, 
till her eyes filled with tears, and the rebellious 
thoughts seemed to die quite out of her heart. 

Then followed the usual exercises of a well-ordered 
school-room, and the ignorant little new-comer found 
herself, with nine other girls, in the lowest class of 
all, reading and spelling the first primer lessons, 
pointing out the towns and rivers of her own State on 
a large map, and sliding different-colored beads about 
on a frame, to help her in remembering the simplest 
combinations of numbers. 

She had never been a dull girl, and now grew so 
excited and interested that her large eyes fairly 
shone, while her pale cheeks were red as roses. Mrs. 
Kenneth was her teacher, and found herself getting 
so much interested in the excited girl as to uncon- 
sciously devote an unusual amount of time to her. 

Once, after accomplishing quite a sum in subtrac- 
tion with the red and blue beads, Jacqueline burst 
into a real childish laugh, and the lady, much to the 
surprise of the rest, only smilingly shook her head in 


84 


TRANSPLANTED. 


rebuke, as she gently tapped the shoulder over which 
she was bending, causing Jacqueline to look up into 
the motherly face much as she had looked into that 
of the sheriff’s yesterday, — and the lady knew she 
had won her heart. 

Poor, starved, little heart ! so ready to be good, 
and yet so thoroughly trained to evil ! 

It was, altogether, a strange and eventful day to 
the waif, and when night found her once more in that- 
clean little room, it was with different feelings from 
those of last night that she reviewed the situation. 
She felt for the first time in her life, that glow of 
satisfaction which comes from the consciousness of 
something done, and well done — felt, too, the exqui- 
site pleasure of having won friends, and commenda- 
tion. 

Naturally she was impulsive and warm-hearted, but 
these traits had been nearly smothered by harshness 
and neglect. She was too untaught, however, to 
understand or explain to herself the source of all her 
comfortable feelings now, but as she snuggled closer 
into her snowy pillow, she whispered, — 

“ It’s kinder fun bein’ good here ! ” and dropped off 
to sleep. 


CHAPTER III. 


REBELLION. 

But there come days to all of us when it’s no fun 
at all to be good, as Jacqueline was not slow to dis- 
cover. It could not be wondered at that the monoto- 
nous routine, and strict enforcement of rules, should 
soon become irksome to one so untrained and lawless 
— but, above every thing else, she rebelled at that one 
enforcing silence between the pupils. Yet, though 
this seemed hard, it was really necessary, to keep 
such undisciplined, and often evil, natures from com- 
ing into too close contact ; but to Jacqueline it was 
all of a piece with Ma’am’s old “ tantrums” — having 
neither sense, nor reason, and only to be gotten 
around by deceit and slyness. 

There was a colored girl who sat near Jacqueline 
in school, and worked beside her in the garden, who 
had completely fascinated her. She had a droll face, 
and two great laughing, rolling eyes, which expressed 
more than some people’s tongues : and with them she 
had telegraphed good fellowship to Jacqueline more 
than once, something in their saucy challenging 
35 


36 


TRANSPLANTED . 


awaking a like feeling of mischievous defiance in 
herself. 

One day, they were working on the same flower-bed 
when Miss Amhurst was called in-doors a minute. 
Quick as a flash, each girl seized the opportunity. 

“ Who be you ? ” 

“What’s yer name?” were their simultaneous 
questions. 

“ Oh ! I’se Dinah Grump, an’ I’m yere fur bein’ a 
norphan.” 

“I’m Jackleen Silsby, an’ I didn’t do nothin’ ’tall ! ” 
were the hurried answers. 

Time was precious, you see. 

“ Does yer like it ? ” asked Dinah, curiously. 

“Oh, some — only it’s too stiff ’n’ clean — an’ it’s a 
mean shame ’at we can’t talk ! ” 

“Oh, dere’s heaps o’ chances — on’y I’se tryin’ to 
git promoted, so I’se dretful circumwentious.” 

“ What’s that ? ” asked No. 27, with big eyes. 

“ What’s what, honey ? ‘ Promoted ’ ? Gittin’ 

’long to nex’ cottage, fur bein’ fust-class, so I’se keer- 
ful to behave ye see. I ain’t hed a mark fur a week. 
W’en you gits up to Honor you hes heaps o’ good 
times — you kin talk now ’n’ then, an’ go up town 
’long wi’ the matron an’ ” — 

Here, as if moved by electricity, Dinah dropped to 
her work, as mum as a china doll, while Jacqueline 


REBELLION. 


37 


still stood, hoe suspended in air,' gazing blankly at 
her, in utter amazement at the sudden change. Only 
for an instant, however, for Miss Amhurst’s voice 
said sternly, — 

“No. 27! You are idling. To-morrow you will 
wash dishes in the kitchen.” 

“I won't!” cried Jacqueline in a sudden fury, 
angry at being balked of hearing Dinah’s remarks, 
angrier still at being found out in her delinquencies, 
angriest of all at what seemed to her downright in- 
justice and oppression — “I won’t wash dishes — I 
hate ’em ! I’ll work here, or not at all ! ” 

The manager’s eyes grew dark with surprised wrath 
— such flat rebellion was rare indeed, in this place, 
where cold system seemed to hold every-body and 
every thing in iron bands — and from such a child, 
too ! 

She took her by the shoulder, and shaking her a 
little attempted to lead her away — but Jacqueline 
had no notion of being led ! It was the first time her 
old temper had broken bounds, and it must have its 
way, utterly regardless of consequences. 

If the child had known she was to be killed for it, 
she could hardly have overcome the paroxysm of rage 
that now burst forth. She struck, scratched, screamed, 
and scolded, using all the old street language she had 
thought nearly forgotten. 


38 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Miss Amhurst kept a strong hold the neck of 
her dress, however, and slowly forced her in-doors, 
occasionally giving her a stinging blow upon her ears, 
as her language grew unbearable ; but attempted no 
remonstrance in words. 

At the door Mrs. Kenneth came forward, sorely 
non-plused at seeing her docile scholar in such a 
position. But she asked no questions, and soon 
Jacqueline, still screaming and protesting, was thrust 
into her own cell, and the door shut fast upon her. 
Not only this, but suddenly, without an instant’s 
warning, she found herself in a darkness so intense 
she literally could not see one ray of light. 

She stopped screaming for very awe, and groped 
about her. 

What had happened ? Was she suddenly struck 
blind ? Had the sun gone out ? What could it mean ? 

The angry sobs which still shook her body seemed 
fairly driven back by this thick curtain of blindness 
— oh, should she never see again ? Then her usual 
courage revived. 

“ It’s nothing but a trick to scare me — that’s all ! 
They’ll find I don’t scare so easy — drat ’em ! ” and 
to keep up her defiant spirit she burst into a loud, 
coarse, street song she had often heard in her old 
home. 

But, after a little, her voice wavered, — then grew 


REBELLION . 


39 


quavering and uncertain — then dropped into silence 

— and she sat as if stunned for a time. Then her 
wide, startled eyes glanced quickly here and there, 
vainly looking for some ray of hope (or light, which 
meant hope) in this dungeon, and finding it not, 
strong, involuntary shudderings shook her from head 
to foot. 

Her bravery was all gone, and the “ horror of great 
darkness ” compassed her about, a horror no strong 
man, even, can withstand, and before which a child 
must wilt as quickly as would a plant treated in the 
same way. Cowering close to the door, she leaned 
her head against its panels, and listened for some 
sound from without. 

Oh ! for a step in the corridor, the slam of a 
door, the far-away clatter of dishes in the kitchen, 

— the confused bustle of the school-room, any thing, 
any thing, except this black, awful silence. 

Yet she jumped and trembled all over as she heard 
the click of a key in the lock, and the next instant 
fell forward at Mrs. Kenneth’s feet, overpowered 
by the dazzling light, and her feelings of intense 
relief. 

Mrs. Kenneth raised her gently, then unfastened 
and slid back the iron shutters which had so effect- 
ually excluded all light from window and transom, 
when worked automatically from below ; then, turn- 


40 


TRANSPLANTED. 


ing, she took Jacqueline’s shaking hand in hers, and 
said quietly, — 

“ Are you ready to obey the rules, my child ? ” 

“ Yes’m,” said Jacqueline sobbingly, for once com- 
pletely subdued. 

Jacqueline had never looked so childishly sweet 
and touching as she did that moment. Her face was 
pale from her fright, her eyes dark, wistful, and 
heavy with tears, her mouth set in grieved lines, like 
a baby’s. As Mrs. Kenneth seated herself, and 
looked down on the child standing at her knee, so 
young, so alone, so filled with good and bad impulses, 
a great wave of pity surged through her heart. She 
thought of the one baby-girl she had laid away years 
ago, in a little white casket, who would have been 
about the same age, now — what if she had been left 
to the mercy of a charitable institution ? — and out of 
this thought came the abrupt question, — 

“ J acqueline, do you remember your mother ? ” 

The child’s eyes grew thoughtful and still. 

“Yes, I — think so. She was pale, an’ purty, an’ 
laid on a bed — an’ she called me ‘ Blossom.’ ” 

“ She was good, too, wasn’t she, dear ? ” 

J acqueline nodded her head, emphatically. 

“Then she has gone to heaven, my child. Don’t 
you ever think you would like to go to her, some 
day ? ” 


REBELLION. 


41 


Again the round, dark head nodded, while the 
darker eyes, large and solemn, were fixed on the 
lady’s. 

She knew, now, something of what heaven meant 
— that it was a beautiful place away above us some- 
where, and had mentally fixed upon the moon as be- 
ing the most brilliant — and thus likely — place she 
could see in the wide sky ! 

“Then, my dear,” continued Mrs. Kenneth, “you 
must be good, too ; you must make an effort to study 
the lessons, obey the rules, and learn all about God 
and heaven ; are you willing to try ? ” 

“Yes’m!” said Jacqueline earnestly. 

“ That’s my good girl ! ” and, yielding to a sudden 
impulse, the matron stooped and kissed the child full 
on her lips. 

It was the first kiss she had received since her 
mother’s death, and it sent a flash of love and joy to 
her very soul. 

“I will — I will try!” she whispered, eagerly — 
“ You’re just as good’s a mother ! ” and, together, the 
now firm friends left the cell. 

They met Miss Amhurst in the lower hall, who 
lifted her eyes questioningly as they passed by, and 
Mrs. Kenneth leaning towards her said, so quickly 
Jacqueline did not catch the words, “ She yields easily 
1o kindness.” 


42 


TRANSPLANTED. 


In a few moments Jacqueline stood before a large 
table, wiping the tin cups and plates another girl 
had washed ; doing it as neatly and gravely, too, 
as if no thought of rebellion had ever crossed her 
mind. 



CHAPTER IV. 


AT MISS PATTY ? S. 

It had been a showery night, and the morning that 
followed was as fresh and fair as a baby from its 
bath. 

Miss Patty Barnes went to the front door of her 
cottage, and, leaning against one of the honeysuckle- 
draped pillars, looked across the lawn, and smiled as 
its gem-like dewdrops twinkled in her eyes. It was a 
pretty home, and Miss Patty loved it, yet, somehow, 
this morning a lonely feeling mingled with her con- 
tent. She turned to the saucy mocking-bird, whist- 
ling in his cage close by, and talked to him a little, 
but still the lonely feeling did not go away. 

“ Dear me ! ” she said, at last, “ how I do miss Bert. 
Oh, ho ! well, I’m getting old, that’s a fact ! Let me 
see — fifty-nine next November — can it be ? And 
what’s to become of me when I do get old — poor, 
lone, crippled body that I am ? Well, well, the good 
Lord knows — he’ll look after me better than I can 
after myself — that’s certain ” — 

Just then there was a crash within, as if of broken 
glass or crockery, and Miss Patty shivered. 

43 


44 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Oh, that girl ! What has she done now, I won- 
der ! ” and turning, limped slowly in-doors ; for the 
kind lady was lame from rheumatism. 

She passed along a narrow hall, then through a 
snug dining-room, and stopped at the kitchen-door, 
beyond; where, in spite of her annoyance, a smile 
crossed her face, at the ludicrous fright so plainly 
shown by the little maid, who stood with starting 
eyes, gazing at the wreck of a handsome china dish 
on the floor. 

At sight of Miss Patty, she burst into tears. 

“ I no can help ! ” she sobbed, in her broken Eng- 
lish, “ 1 no good here — must work in field — me ! ” 
and she pointed despairingly to the fragments of 
china, then hold up her coarse, toil-hardened hands 
and shook them dolorously. Miss Patty’s smile 
widened into a laugh of amusement. 

“ Poor thing ! You can’t help being clumsy, I 
know,” she said, understanding well how the little 
Polish girl had always worked just like a boy — hoe- 
ing potatoes, splitting wood, or driving cattle : “ no 
wonder these delicate things slip from your grasp. 
Here ! give me the dish-towel. I’ll finish the break- 
fast china, and you may go and dig the potatoes for 
dinner.” 

“ Yah ! ” with a radiant smile, “ I deeg — I know — 
so goot lady ! ” and with a gesture full of gratitud 


AT MISS PATTY’S. 


45 


and humility, the foreign-bred girl suddenly stooped, 
and kissed the lady’s hand. 

It rather shocked good Miss Patty’s democratic 
ideas. 

“ Sho ! Sho!” she said hastily, “run along now, 
and be sure and put on your sun-bonnet.” 

But after the girl had gone, a line of care appeared 
between her eyes. “ This won’t do ! ” she thought 
decidedly, “I must have better help than this. I 
thought, being used to outdoor work, she could assist 
me in the greenhouse and garden, as well as kitchen, 
but it would be a good deal like turning a donkey 
loose among my flowers — poor, clumsy creature ! 
I’m sorry for her, but what if I should be sick ? 
She’d drive me crazy, and smash every thing in-doors 
and out ! She means well, but she needs a sight of 
training, and that’s something I never could have 
given her in my best days — Oh, dear ! ” and for the 
second time that morning a long sigh welled up from 
her heart — though sighs were an unusual thing with 
bright, chirrupy Patty Barnes. 

When the girl appeared with the potatoes, she bade 
her first wash them, ready for the oven, and then go 
to the Post Office for the morning’s mail, and — still 
limping painfully, for the shower which had so re- 
freshed the earth had brought fresh pain to her — she 
passed again across the dining-room to the side of the 


$ 


46 TRANSPLANTED. 

house (but end of the room) which was entirely of 
glass, and passing through the central sliding-door, 
stepped directly into a small, but very complete 
greenhouse, with banks of potted plants rising on 
either side of a narrow path which intersected it at 
right angles to the entrance. Beneath the sheltering 
sides were large beds for slips ; and climbing over 
the walls, even up on to the glass of the sloping 
roof, were vines of rich clematis, glossy smilax, and 
the rarer passion-flower. 

It was fragrant and cool this September morning, 
and the line of care smoothed itself out of Miss 
Patty’s brow, as she passed slowly down the path, 
pinching off a dead leaf here, examining an opening 
bud there — for this was her treasure-house in every 
sense of the word ; not only as the business by which 
she earned a comfortable living, but as the place also 
in which she dreamed her sweetest dreams (oh ! you 
needn’t smile ! Even old maids of fifty-nine have 
their dreams, though they may not be the same as 
yours ! ) and forgot her cares and ailments. 

Here, too, though she had never told any body, she 
came to talk with God, in the familiar, loving way 
she had, telling him her wants, anxieties, and fears, 
and asking for more patience, grace, and strength. 
It was her treasure-house in both an earthly and 
heavenly sense — for Miss Patty had learned to make 


AT MISS PATTY’S. 


47 


her religion a part of her business, and her business a 
part of her religion — squaring her whole life by that 
only true Rule and Compass — the Bible — remem- 
bering that the Rule is not for exceptional times only, 
but for every day and all day, and that the command, 
“Be diligent in business/’ is to be equally obeyed 
with the one, “ Be ye fervent in spirit.” 

A step in the other room showed that Marta, as 
she called herself, had returned, and Miss Patty went 
back to the dining-room to receive her mail, a large 
one, seemingly, for a lonely woman. But six of the 
big envelopes held business matter, orders from city 
florists perhaps, while the seventh more delicate in- 
closure brought a smile to her face, as she caught 
sight of the writing, — 

“Maggie Kenneth, T declare ! bless her dear heart! 
I haven’t heard from her this year ” — and shoving 
the others aside, she seated herself comfortably, to 
read the following, — 


A Reform School, Sept. 1, 18— 

My dear Patty : — Did you think yourself forgotten, 
dear old friend of my girlhood, (for I am aware it’s ages since I 
wrote !) or are you, like myself, too busy to think of anything 
beyond the narrow circle of your duties, except now and then ? 
At any rate, when I do remember you, it is with affection 
enough to make amends for all former forgetfulness. 

But perhaps you won’t thank me for this letter, when you 


48 


TRANSPLANTED. 


know it is written expressly to ask a favor of you — a great 
favor — but one I feel that you will grant at once, if you can, 
and will as frankly decline, if you think best to do so. 

You know that I meet with all sorts of queer girl-natures in 
this work of mine, but never have I been so interested in any 
case as in the following. It is that of a little girl of about 
twelve, named Jacqueline Silsby, who was sent here on a gen- 
eral charge of vagrancy — receiving stolen goods, etc., last May. 

The child has a delicate form and features, but her face was 
as old and haggard as that of a woman grown, when she came; 
still, in spite of her coarse speech and ways, and her hard, 
bold stare, there was something about her — I can’t tell what 
— which, from the very first, interested me — an almost spirit- 
ual look at times, like a flash of sunlight over a coarse painting, 
and a voice whose sw r eet, refined tones were in striking contrast 
with the dreadful speech she used. 

Then her Christian name struck me as an uncommon one for 
such a low-bred child (though it had degenerated into “ Jack,” 
and was only recalled by an effort of memory), and altogether, 
I couldn’t get the child off my mind. With all this, she 
showed a love for flowers which was simply a passion, and, in 
fact, never gave a symptom of rebellion until ordered away from 
the garden w r ork she so loved, into the kitchen — when she 
went into one of the aw'fullest tantrums I ever saw, and we had 
to give her a half hour of darkness. 

It subdued her (outwardly, at least), and a talk I had with 
her afterwards did her still more good. It was about her 
mother, who died w T lien she was very young, but who seems to 
have been a person of some refinement, at least. 

In short, the child has fallen in love with me, and, I declare, 
I believe I feel the same toward her I She has learned wonder- 


AT MISS PATTY’S. 


49 


fully fast, — I never saw a brighter scholar — and is on the list 
for promotion next month. 

This, you see, takes her out of my hands, and though she is 
proud of the honor, she can’t speak of leaving me without a 
burst of tears, and her nature is so peculiar that I dread these 
new influences. Poor little thing! she has been starving for 
love all her life, and is now opening like a flower under its in- 
fluence — if thrust out into the cold again, I fear the conse- 
quences ; for, though her new teachers will do their duty, I can 
hardly expect another will take the interest I do. 

Besides, such natures as Jacqueline’s need the repose, refine- 
ment, and cheerful duties of a home — and now for the favor! 
Next week is my fall vacation, and I want you to ask me to 
visit you — and bring Jacqueline! 

Then, if you should like her — as I do hope you will — well, 
you know our rules allow us to bind out our girls into good fami- 
lies, under certain conditions, till their time expires; and, if you 
could find a daughter and companion in my girl, and she a 
mother in you, how delightful it would be ! 

But time will tell, and, meanwhile, I’m as sure you’ll let us 
come, as I am that I wouldn’t ask this of another woman of my 
acquaintance ! 

Lovingly yours, 

Maggie Kenneth. 

Mrs. Kenneth knew well the nature she had to deal 
with. Miss Patty’s face had been a study of emo- 
tions, as she read the long letter, and now she had to 
remove her spectacles to wipe the moisture from them 
as she exclaimed, energetically, — 

“ Let them come — I guess so ! ” and before an hour 


50 


TRANSPLANTED. 


had passed, her warm invitation was written, sealed, 
and on its way to the office. 

A few days later Miss Patty, looking unusually 
nice in her delicate sprigged muslin, stood again on 
the pleasant front veranda, and looked down the road. 
This veranda was deep enough to admit of a small 
table, and two or three chairs, thus making quite a 
summer parlor of it. 

It was near sunset, and the tea-table, deftly set by 
her own hands, awaited her guests in the pretty 
dining-room, while Marta, brilliant in a new black 
and yellow calico, and white apron, was darting about 
the kitchen in a state of tremulous excitement. 

There was a “ flurry of dust in the distance,” and 
the depot carriage (prosaic modern substitute for the 
gayly caparisoned steeds of the old-time story !) came 
in sight; the next moment it had stopped, and a 
young girl sprang nimbly out, and turning, gave a 
hand to Mrs. Kenneth, whose weight made her less 
agile. A trunk was then lifted down by the man 
before he drove briskly away, while the two old 
friends kissed each other, their eyes wet with 
tears. 

“ Here is Jacqueline ; my dear, this is our kind 
friend, Miss Barnes,” said Mrs. Kenneth then, and 
Miss Patty looked down into a pair of wistful, dark 
eyes, and noticed a sweet, frail face, and trim little 


AT MISS PATTY’S. 


51 


figure, in a neat, gray suit, made, as she shrewdly 
suspected, from an old one of her friend’s. She liked 
the face, and her own smile was so sweetly cordial 
that Jacqueline warmed to her at once. 

Then they all went into the house — the first 
pleasant home Jacqueline had ever entered — turning 
into the large, square parlor at the left. 

It was furnished quaintly, but comfortably, with a 
bright, old-fashioned carpet, chairs of every style and 
pattern, but all made luxurious by cushions of gay 
cretonne, or silk patchwork, a table here and there 
— a set of low book-shelves, well filled, and a pretty 
corner fire-place with carved wood-work and shelves 
holding bric-a-brac and china — the grate being now 
concealed by a great jar of golden-rod and meadow- 
grasses. 

At the further end, double glass doors opened into 
the end of the conservatory, as those from the dining- 
room into its longer side. 

Jacqueline looked about upon all this color, cozi- 
ness, and home-warmth, and involuntarily a little 
“ Oh ! ” of delight escaped her. 

Miss Patty, turning quickly, caught her rapt gaze 
fixed upon the greenhouse, and asked, in a pleased 
way,— 

“ Do you like it ? 99 

“ It’s the purtiest place I ever see in my life ! And 


52 


TRANSPLANTED. 


to think o’ havin’ a gardin right in the house — Oh ! 
I can’t b’lieve I’m here.” 

Both ladies laughed, well pleased at her great delight. 

“ You shall see the inside of the ‘ garden ’ soon, my 
child — but come to supper now,” said Miss Patty 
kindly, almost forgetting to limp in her excitement, as 
she led the way to the dining-room. 

Here, though really hungry, the child could scarcely 
eat for the beauty of it all; the singing birds, the 
broad windowed end of the room, looking into such 
wealth of greenery, the pretty china and silver on 
sideboard and table, the dishes of luscious grapes and 
peaches, the broad, buxom-faced maid, bobbing in and 
out in such a state of ecstatic excitement, it was all 
like a lovely story, or some dream from which she 
must soon waken. 

When tea was over she asked, timidly, — 

“ Shall I help, Mrs. Kenneth ? ” 

“ Help, who, child ? ” 

“ Her,”- pointing to Marta, who had just entered, 
“ I could wash the dishes.” 

“Not to-night,” said Miss Patty kindly, “you must 
rest after your journey,” and Mrs. Kenneth, pleased 
at the thoughtfulness of her protegee, said, — 

“ Suppose you let her wander through the garden 
and greenhouse, while we have a talk, Patty. You 
won’t touch any thing, Jacqueline ? ” 


AT MISS PATTY'S. 


53 


“No ma’am ! ” very earnestly. 

“ All right, then,” (as Miss Patty nodded approval) 
“ go where you choose, only be careful,” and the elder 
ladies passed into the parlor. 

They had finished their long, absorbing talk, and 
Mrs. Kenneth was following her friend, as she went 
about locking up the house for the night, when each 
simultaneously remembered the little stranger-guest, 
who had been given over to the flowers. 

They sought her in the glass-covered garden, but 
could not at first see her anywhere, then, peering 
around an overgrown ailantus, Miss Patty saw some- 
thing which made her beckon her friend forward. 
There, crouched upon her knees, with her head lean- 
ing against the mossy bank, was the child, fast asleep. 
By the light of the lamp Miss Patty carried, they 
could see that there was a smile of content about her 
mouth, while on her cheek glittered a tear. 

“Asleep ! ” said Mrs. Kenneth softly, “I do believe 
she has been thinking of her mother.” 

“ And see ! ” added the other lady, “ she is on her 
knees.” 

“Yes, she has learned to pray of late; I have 
found her so several times. It must have been a 
happy prayer, to-night,” and gently rousing her, they 
led her, too drowsy to sense any thing, off to bed. 


CHAPTER V. 


NEW IMPRESSIONS AND FRIENDS. 

The next week was like a bit of enchantment to 
Jacqueline, who reveled in the greenhouse, and the 
large garden of fruit, vegetables, and more common 
flowers, beyond. 

A new mood had come over the girl, which she 
hardly recogDized herself, one of dreamy, quiet satis- 
faction. 

Relieved from former restraints, she might have 
chattered with Marta from morning till night, had 
she chosen, but to her own surprise, found she did not 
care for her broken speech, and as soon as she had 
helped her in the daily household tasks was glad to 
slip off by herself, and dream away the hours in the 
sweet old garden, now ablaze with dahlias, asters, and 
geraniums, her only companions being the big, old, 
tortoise-shell cat, and her own thoughts. 

The ladies, sewing by a side wflndow, noticed her 
one day, as she thus wandered quietly about, now 
stopping to smell of, or softly handle, an especially fine 
flower, — she did not seem to care to pick them, though 


NEW IMPRESSIONS AND FRIENDS. 


55 


she had permission, — now shading her eyes to look up 
into the cloud-flecked sky, with a long, wondering 
gaze, and, at last, sitting down in the soft grass, while 
the cat coolly appropriated her lap for a couch. 

“ It’s queer ! ” laughed Miss Patty, “ I never saw 
Lep really take to any one before, except Bert, and 
myself. He’s the most unsociable creature you ever 
saw, will hardly take a bone even, from Marta, and 
he likes a bone as well as any dog ; but just see how 
he appropriates that child — follows her every-where, 
and climbs over her as unconcernedly as you please ! 
There’s something queer about cats ; I’ve always 
thought they knew more than most animals ! ” 

“The Egyptians thought so, I suppose,” said her 
friend, “ at any rate, they paid them great deference, 
but they always seem to me too sly and mysterious to 
be pleasant ; I prefer dogs — what a queer name ! ” 

“What, Lep ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s Leopard, you know. Bert named him, be- 
cause he has those yellow spots, but we always call 
him Lep.” 

“ And how are your friends, the Leaven worths, 
Patty ? ” 

“Oh, much the same. Mrs. Leavenworth never 
goes out. I see her perhaps twice a year, when I go to 
spend the day. As for Bert, he’s the dearest boy 


56 


TRANSPLANTED. 


under the sun ! His grandmother just dotes on him, 
poor woman ! ” 

“Yes, ’twas a sad story, but he must be a great 
comfort.” 

“He is, and so’s Arlene ; well, child,” (as Jacque- 
line, just then, sauntered in, Lep in her arms), “you 
must like to carry that lazy cat about ! ” 

“I do — he likes me.” 

“ Well, you’re about the only one he does, then ! 
I’ve always thought Lep had excellent judgment ! ” 
with a twinkle of her eye, which made Jacqueline 
laugh in sympathy, though she didn’t exactly under- 
stand, as she turned away and went up to her own 
room. 

This was a dear, little nook which jutted out over 
the deep front portico, and looked upon the lawn, 
beyond which the street wound away up a low hill, 
with more pretty houses and lawns, until in the dis- 
tance she could discern a glint of smooth water, which 
she afterwards learned to be a charming lake, whose 
fine scenery and good fishing made this small town 
quite a pleasure resort in summer, especially as the 
city was within easy distance — that same city, 
though Jacqueline did not now know it, where she 
had lived, and suffered. 

Upon a little corner shelf in this room, whose 
narrow white bed, toilet stand, and chair, nearly filled 


NEW IMPRESSIONS AND FRIENDS. 57 

it, were a half-dozen books with gay, but well-worn 
covers, whose fly-leaves bore such inscriptions as 
these — “ Patty Barnes, on her ninth birthday ; ” or 
“ Patty, with a merry Christmas from Mamma ” — her 
own childish books, preserved in Miss Patty’s usual 
careful way. 

J acqueline could not yet read very easily, but some 
of them were in such large type, and had such funny, 
old-time pictures that she took real delight in looking 
them over, and sandwiched them in between her 
saunterings in the garden, and one or two long ram- 
bles about the pleasant country town, with Marta for 
guide — for Mrs. Kenneth knew she could trust Jacque- 
line now, and did not attempt to keep her shut in. 

Then, too, she thoroughly enjoyed the quiet 
mornings in the greenhouse, when she was allowed 
to clip flowers for the baskets or designs Miss Patty 
was preparing on order, or watch the man who came 
to shower the greenhouse, do the heavy work out 
doors and in, and carry away the great baskets of 
bloom to the station, for delivery in the city, or to 
private houses here at home. 

It was altogether too delightful to last, and when 
on Friday evening as they all sat out on the piazza, 
she heard Mrs. Kenneth say, with a sigh, — 

“ It’s been such a lovely visit ! I can’t bear to 
think of going back to-morrow.” 


58 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Jacqueline audibly echoed the sigh. 

Miss Patty looked up. 

“ I can’t bear to have you, Maggie ; but my child, 
are you sorry to go, too ? ” 

“Yes’m, very sorry.” 

“ And you are not lonely here, without any young 
folks about ? ” 

“ There isn’t much good in young folks, if you can’t 
speak to ’em ! ” said Jacqueline a little sharply, for it 
was the one thing which had cut deepest at the 
school. 

Miss Patty laughed. 

“ Sure enough ! Supposing you stay here, 
then ? ” 

“ Here ? ” The child had never heard a lisp of her 
friend’s plans for her, and did not, indeed, suppose 
she could leave the school, so she added mournfully, 
“ If I only could ! ” 

“ You may,” said Mrs. Kenneth, calmly, “ if you 
like.” 

“I may? I may stay here — with the flowers — 
and all ? ” cried the excited girl, springing to her 
feet. “ Oh ! don’t fool me ! ” 

“ Indeed we won’t, dear,” said Miss Patty, warmly. 
“You shall stay, if you like — but not to be idle. 
I shall want you to take Marta’s place in the work, 
as I couldn’t afford to keep her, too. Besides, she can 


NEW IMPRESSIONS AND FRIENDS. 59 


do much better on a farm — and you must agree to do 
as you are bid, just as you did at the school — will 
you do this ? ” 

Jacqueline had stepped to Mrs. Kenneth’s side, and 
now stood with a hand on that lady’s chair. 

“ Wouldn’t I ever learn any more lessons — nor 
any thing about heaven ? ” she asked, a little doubt- 
fully. 

“ Yes, you shall go to school every day in winter,” 
said Miss Patty, “ and perhaps I can tell you some- 
thing about heaven, too.” 

“ Because, you see,” said Jacqueline, simply, “ my 
mother’s there, and I want to go myself, some time.” 
Then her eyes suddenly filled with tears. 

“I hate to leave you, Mrs. Kenneth, but I’d have 
to if I went to E cottage, wouldn’t I ? ” 

“ Yes, Jacqueline, we couldn’t be together even at 
the school, and I should be only too glad to think of 
you, safe in this pleasant home.” 

“ Then I’ll stay, and be just ’s good ’s I know 
how ! ” was the earnest response. 

“ And I’ll be good to you — let’s shake hands on 
it ! ” said Miss Patty gravely, and, shyly stepping for- 
ward, Jacqueline laid her hand in the whiter, but not 
so shapely one, out-stretched to her — and the bar- 
gain was ratified. 

A week later, Jacqueline’s new life had fairly com- 


60 


TRANSPLANTED. 


menced, for Marta had gone, as well as Mrs. Kenneth, 
and she had stepped into a quiet round of duties that, 
without being irksome, kept her busily employed 
several hours a day. Though the work was not hard, 
there were many steps to take, and of course some 
drudgery to do, but there was such a home feeling 
with it all, that Jacqueline was very happy and con- 
tented. 

One day while dusting a picture in the parlor, she 
stopped to give it a long, admiring look. It was a 
pretty water-color, representing two children in a 
boat, which was secured to a post — the boy pretend- 
ing to fish with a string, the chubby little girl 
dabbling a dimpled hand in the water — when to her 
dismay the cord which held it suddenly parted, and 
it came tumbling towards her. She caught it with a 
little shriek of pain and dismay, for the corner of the 
frame had cut a gash in her head, and Miss Patty 
hurrying to the rescue, cried, — 

“ Oh ! oh ! It is Bert’s picture — how did it hap- 
pen ? Why, child, you are hurt ! ” 

“Not much,” said Jacqueline stoutly, “and I guess 
’tain’t broke, is it ? ” 

“No, it isn’t broken,” (Miss Patty emphasized the 
improved expression, as she often did to teach Jacque- 
line better) “ but let’s see to your head ! Here, I’ll 
do it up nicely in this linen cloth.” 


NEW IMPRESSIONS AND FRIENDS. 61 


As she knelt to have her head bound, Jacqueline 
asked, timidly, — 

“ Please, ma’am, who is Bert ? ” 

“ Bert ? Well, let’s see ! ” and Miss Patty laughed 
amusedly. “ Why, he’s Albert Leavenworth Amory, 
the grandson of a neighbor of mine, and the dearest 
boy in the world ! He always comes to see me when 
he’s home, and I miss him every day, now he’s away 
at school.” 

“ At a reform school ? ” asked Jacqueline inno- 
cently. 

Miss Patty laughed again. 

“ Hardly. It’s a school for boys, called Elmwood 
— a nice place. Bert painted this picture; he’s a 
regular genius, I assure you ! ’Twas my last Christ- 
mas present from him.” 

“Did he do it all?” asked Jacqueline, with wide 
eyes. “ He must b“e smart.” 

“Yes — there ! that’s all right. I wonder if that 
cord can be moth-eaten. I must get some wire — it’s 
safer. Yes, he did that on purpose for me, and he 
calls them my children — says that chubby little 
girl looks like me — the idea! Does your head 
ache ? ” 

“Not much,” and Jacqueline gave another look at 
the picture, now propped against the wall, wondering 
how old was this boy who could make such pretty 


62 


TRANSPLANTED. 


things, how he looked, where Elmwood was, whether 
he had a mother and father, and a great many more 
wonders, none of which she had the courage to ques- 
tion Miss Patty about, however. 


CHAPTER VI. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 

Miss Patty’s rheumatism had been so bad they 
could not get out to church for several Sundays after 
Jacqueline’s coming, especially as the equinoctial 
storms had been unusually persistent and severe; 
but there dawned, at length, a delightful day, in 
which she felt so much better than usual, that she re- 
solved to attempt the rather long walk ; and Jacque- 
line, who had never been inside of a church door, 
nor to any religious service, whatever, except those 
held in the lecture-room at the school, put on her 
gray suit in a flutter of expectation. The walk proved 
to be a delightful one, past pretty houses, rising 
towards the center of the town, which was upon quite 
an eminence, from which the ground sloped on every 
side to the fertile valley surrounding it, before it rose 
again in rolling waves of rich farm lands, swelling 
higher and higher into the range of mountains so far 
away they could sometimes scarce be distinguished 
from the clouds themselves. 

Once, they crossed a clea^ swift stream, flowing over 
gleaming yellow sands, and with an exclamation of 


64 


TRANSPLANTED. 


delight — almost of recognition — Jacqueline stopped 
on the pretty bridge, and, leaning over the parapet, 
gazed down — with that strange sense of familiarity 
which we sometimes feel in the midst of scenes we 
are quite certain we have never visited before. 

She looked around at Miss Patty with a half- 
frightened expression. “ I feel as if I’d seen it be- 
fore ! ” she said, almost in a whisper. “ Or else, I’ve 
heard it in a story. There ought to be a little girl 
stepping across them stones, and an old red house, 
with the chimney fell down, over there.” 

Miss Patty looked at her sharply. 

“ There teas such a house, but it’s torn down. 
Marta must have told you.” 

But Jacqueline shook her head in a dazed way, 
and walked on, groping vainly in her memory for 
something apparently so near, yet just beyond her 
grasp, which would explain this queer feeling. Cer- 
tainly, neither had Marta told her, nor had she been 
this way, before. Miss Patty’s voice broke in upon 
her reverie. 

“That brook is at the foot of the Leavenworth 
grounds — Bert’s grandmother’s place, you know — 
and they built the fancy little foot-bridge. It 
shortens our walk some, and I always come this way. 
The regular street’s further that way, and goes by the 
front of the grounds — it’s a grand old place.” 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


65 


Just then they came in sight of the church. It 
was a beautiful edifice, small, but well planned, and 
built of unhewn stone. It was now brilliant with 
wistaria in its flaming autumn colors, and seemed to 
welcome them with a glad smile, and wide, hospitable 
doors, as they went up the gently-sloping path to the 
entrance. As they passed through the vestibule and 
stepped into the half-lighted interior, a feeling of 
strangeness and awe, as new as it was delightful, 
crept over Jacqueline. They seated themselves 
quietly, the child’s quick glance taking in the 
frescoed walls, broad platform, with pulpit and read- 
ing-desk, stained windows, rich carvings, and silent, 
well-dressed congregation ; and a sudden desire, al- 
most passionate in its intensity, swelled in her little 
heart, — a desire for the decency, comfort, and respect- 
ability, which made up the lives of these people. 
That was what she really wished, though her un- 
tutored thought was only, — 

“ This is God’s house ; that’s why they make it so 
grand. And these are God’s children. Oh dear ! I 
hope He wouldn’t be ashamed of me, if He should 
come in, now ! ” 

A swift thought of Ma’am, Gem Street, and the 
boys, sent such a strong shudder over her body that 
Miss Patty whispered, to ask if she were cold. 
Jacqueline had only time to shake her head emphati- 


66 


TRANSPLANTED. 


cally, when a volume of sound rolled through the 
building, that made her start in her seat, and gaze 
bewilderedly around. 

Miss Patty smiled, as she whispered, “ The organ, 
dear — they’re going to sing.” 

Jacqueline listened, first to the fine melody, chang- 
ing from rolling thunder to the sweetest piping 
strains, and then to the choir of well-trained voices, 
wondering if this were not a foretaste of the music 
her mother must be hearing in heaven ! 

If I tell the truth, I must confess that the music 
impressed her much more than the sermon that fol- 
lowed, to which she listened in a sort of dream, so 
strange and eventful was it all to her ; only under- 
standing, now and then, what the preacher was 
saying. 

But when she went with Miss Patty into the 
beautiful Sunday-school room, with its engravings, 
mottoes, maps, and blackboards, its cheerful hum, 
and rousing music, she grew wide-awake at once. 

“ Do you want to join a class ? ” asked Miss Patty, 
pleasantly. “ I always go into the minister’s Bible 
class when Pm here, but that’s too old for you. Miss 
Leavenworth will take you in, I know,” and she 
smiled affectionately at a young lady sitting just be- 
fore them, whose refined and lovely face had before 
attracted Jacqueline’s eyes. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


67 


Miss Leavenworth overheard, and leaned back to 
answer, heartily, — 

“ Indeed, I will, with pleasure ! — any friend of 
Miss Patty’s ” — and Jacqueline was duly presented. 

So when, after opening exercises, Miss Patty went 
away into one of the parlors off the audience-room, 
with the large class to which she belonged, Jacque- 
line found herself, with several other girls of her own 
age, or older, clustered about the lovely Miss Leaven- 
worth, and listening to her low, pleasant voice as she 
asked questions, and explained the lesson for the 
day. 

Jacqueline did not attempt to speak much, — she 
felt, with an instinct finer than her breeding, that 
she must appear better when silent, among these 
ready girls, with their correct speech and refined 
voices, — but she heard and saw every thing. 

The lesson was upon the healing of the daughter of 
Jairus, and Miss Leavenworth knew well how to 
bring out all its spiritual significance, as well as to 
make it a life-like scene before her scholars’ mental 
eyes ; and Jacqueline, listening, began to understand 
something of the divine love and mercy — something, 
also, of the divine power to save, and to feel how 
small and impotent we are without such help and 
guidance. 

As she thought of herself, so friendless and alone, 


68 


TRANSPLANTED. 


she felt what a great thing it would be to feel sure of 
this strong, wonderful love — to call this divine 
Power both friend and Saviour. 

Before this, her one desire to grow better had been 
centered in the wish to see her mother ; now, for the 
first time, a stronger motive came to her, and with it 
a feeling of helplessness which made her almost for- 
lorn. How could she — poor little Jacqueline Silsby 
— ever call this great Being friend ? How could she 
ever expect him to give eternal life to her apparently 
neglected soul, as he had given earthly life to the 
little Galilean girl ? 

To be sure, this girl was no older than Jacqueline, 
herself, but then her father was rich and powerful, 
with soldiers under him; and Jacqueline had no 
father, no mother, no home — except a temporary one, 
of charity. 

Her eyes grew moist, and Miss Leavenworth, catch- 
ing the look, wondered a little. She had heard 
nothing of Jacqueline’s past, and naturally supposed 
her the child of some distant relative or friend, 
of whom she had not heard, who had come to stay 
with the kind, lonely spinster for help and company ; 
for, though the two families were old and intimate 
friends, they did not often meet. So she thought, 
compassionately, — 

“ She is homesick, poor child ! ” and her voice 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


69 


grew low and tender, as she told how Christ is always 
with us, and knows all our feelings, sad or gay. 

“ Our human friends would often be glad to com- 
fort us, as no doubt Jairus’s friends sympathized with 
him, but sometimes we can’t even speak of our 
griefs ; sometimes, too, we are separated from those 
we love, but the dear Saviour always knows, is always 
close by. We needn’t even tell our trouble, but 
simply cry out for help, and he is ready to give it.” 
And as she spoke with such calm assurance, Jacque- 
line felt a soft satisfaction in the thought that even 
she might win some passing favor from so ready and 
willing a Saviour. 

Perhaps you may wonder a little that she felt so 
much in that short hour, which possibly brings you 
little that is impressive, and the memory of which 
soon leaves you ; but you must remember all this was 
as new to her as a visit to Europe would be to you. 

Were you to walk through a street in Dresden, for 
instance, by the side of some one who had always 
lived there, you can readily understand that things 
which the other would pass by unnoticed, as utterly 
commonplace, would seem very strange and note- 
worthy to you. If asked about this walk, your com- 
panion might only be able to say, — 

“Why, yes, we walked to the market and back, 
and I bought a nosegay of a flower-girl ; that was all.” 


TO 


TRANSPLANTED. 


While you would tell of the queer teams, where 
perhaps a woman and dog were harnessed together ; 
of the strange, steep-gabled houses, painted in dingy 
greens ; of the quaint costume worn by the little 
flower-girl ; of a group of soldiers in their gay dress, 
— and many other things, which had not even left a 
passing impression upon your friend, because seen so 
often. 

Thus, what has become an old story to you was, to 
this street-bred waif, something so utterly strange and 
delightful that she noted every thing, and received 
more impressions in one hour, than you might in 
days, or weeks ; and when Miss Leavenworth took her 
hand a moment, in bidding her good-by, and said, “ I 
shall hope to see you every Sunday,” Jacqueline 
felt that no slight cause should ever keep her 
away. 

“ Well, and how did you like Miss Leavenworth ? ” 
asked Miss Patty, as she dropped, exhausted, into her 
piazza chair, and handed Jacqueline her bonnet to 
carry in, after their warm homeward walk. 

“ I thought she was the beautifullest lady I ever 
see ! ” said the child, enthusiastically. 

“ Most beautiful you ever saw, you mean ; well, 
you’re not far wrong. Arlene has a sweet face ! 
You know she’s Bert’s aunt, his mother’s sister. 
It seems odd for her to be his aunt, too, for she’s only 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


71 


a few years older. They live with her mother in the 
old place ; they’re all that are left ! ” 

“ And where are his father and mother ? ” asked 
Jacqueline, modestly curious, and trying to be most 
correct. 

Miss Patty smiled approval, then sighed. 

“ Both dead, my dear ; he is an orphan, like your- 
self. Let’s eat our luncheon out here, Jacqueline ; 
you’ll find the peaches in a basket, and the cream’s 
in the ice-box.” And Jacqueline knew she must ask 
no more questions. 

Meanwhile, two of Arlene Leavenworth’s class were 
standing at a certain gate, leading into a large, well- 
kept yard, talking busily. 

“Yes, but there’s something so odd about her,” 
said one. “ I don’t think she’s our style at all.” 

“ And what is our style, I’d like to know ? ” 
laughed the other, her frank, blue eyes full of fun, 
and her full red lips parted in a broad smile over her 
white teeth. 

“ Oh, pshaw, Bessie ! you know just as well as I 
do ! She’s — well, she’s sort of kitcheny, don’t you 
know ? and I just believe she’s a sort of servant 
girl to Miss Patty — now ! ” 

“ Well, and if she is ? ” 

“ Now, Bessie Bandall, would you go with her, if 
she was ? ” 


72 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ I don’t suppose I shall be called upon to ‘go with 
her,’ as you say, Lou Talbot ; but I certainly sha’n’t 
leave her out, if she’s going to belong to our class ; 
it would be a mean shame, whatever she is ! Besides, 
I don’t think she’s ‘ kitcheny ’ one bit ; she’s really 
nice-looking, and there’s an air about her — I don’t 
know what, a sort of independent, don’t-you-tread- 
on-me way — that I like; anyhow, I shall ask her, 
and that’s all there is about it. Good-by ! ” And, turn- 
ing abruptly, she went up the long, winding walk, and 
into the very handsome hall, whose lofty, shadowy 
interior must have cooled her down a little ; for after 
a step or two, in-doors, she smiled pleasantly, and, 
throwing off every trace of annoyance, stepped lightly 
into a library at one side, whose walls, about two- 
thirds to the ceiling, seemed made of books. 

“ Well, Queenie, home again ? ” asked a portly gen- 
tleman, laying aside the book he had been reading, 
but first slipping his eyeglasses between the leaves to 
keep the place. 

“ Yes, papa, and it does seem delightfully cool here 
after that hot walk ! The thermometer must have 
made a regular balloon ascension since morning. 
What are you reading ? Browning ? Phew ! Papa, 
how can you, such hot weather ? I’m altogether too 
lazy to dig him out, except in mid-winter ! ” But she 
did not look very lazy as she tossed hat and gloves 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


73 


aside, and seated herself, with her merry, alert air, 
opposite the very fine-looking man she called father. 

“ Did you notice,” she asked, with her sunny laugh, 
“ that I’m boiling over with indignation ? ” 

He laughed too. 

“ Why, no ; I thought it was only the gentle sim- 
mer of a slow stew; and you really claim it is a 
tempest in a tea-pot ! What’s gone wrong ? tight 
shoes ? or did the choir sing flat ? or wasn’t Arlene 
at Sunday-school ? or what ? ” 

She laughed again. 

“‘Niver a wan, my daddy dear’; it’s that Lou 
Talbot ! ” 

“ Indeed ! And what has Lou done, now ? ” 

“ O papa, she’s so snobbery, — I hate it ! ” 

“ That’s correct ; but you mustn’t hate her” 

“ I’m afraid it’s a distinction without a difference, 
papa, for she’s it ; she is, indeed ! What would she 
be, if you took that away ? ” 

“ A bright, well-educated girl, with a great deal of 
music in the ends of her pretty fingers, and a pleasant 
readiness to do any thing, without sparing herself, 
for those she calls her friends,” was the earnest 
answer. 

“ There, papa ! I give up ! You’re right, and I’m 
wrong — as usual. I’m just bowed with shame — in- 
deed I am ! And, I’ll own, Lou might be just lovely, 


74 


TRANSPLANTED. 


if it wasn’t for that ; but it roils me from my boots 
up ! ” 

“ I see it does,” shaking his head, with grave comi- 
cality ; “ but what’s the especial occasion for it, 
now ? ” 

" I’ll tell you. You perhaps remember, most 
learned but unmindful of fathers, that I was to in- 
vite Arlene and the class here next Wednesday to 
tea ? ” 

“ I had not forgotten, most domestic and inconse- 
quent of daughters ; and what then ? Is there some 
late prejudice of fashion against tea-parties in 
October, which has called forth Miss Lou’s snobbish 
traits ? ” 

, “ Oh no ; no, indeed ! That’s all perfectly comme 
il faut ; (how nice to air one’s French, now and then !) 
but to-day dear Miss Patty introduced a new member, 
— a pale bit of a girl with ‘ asking ’ eyes, as your 
Browning hath it, and an air something between a 

persecuted kitten, and a princess in disguise, — and 

+ 

Lou objects to my inviting her, says she’s queer and 
kitcheny, and all that.” 

“ Pardon my stupidity, but did I understand you 
were to give this party, or Miss Lou ? ” 

“ Why I, papa, of course.” 

“ Then, there is nothing more to be said ; if she 
does not like your guests, she has the option of refus- 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


75 


ing your invitation. Of course you invite the new- 
comer ; there can be no other way ! She is of the 
class, and therefore your companion and friend. 
What is her name, did you say ? ” 

“ I didn’t say, but it was as odd as herself ; Jacque- 
line — J acqueline Silsby. That doesn’t sound exactly 
‘ kitcheny,’ does it ? ” 

He started a little, and looked at her as if absorbed 
and forgetful for a moment, but this was nothing new 
in him, and when, a little later, he murmured, — 

“ Silsby ; is that so ? ” she thought nothing of it, 
for, being a constant student, he was apt to drop 
away from the every-day affairs of life into profound 
musings now and then, at which Bess always took 
the hint, and left him to himself. 

She did so now, and, picking up her things, went 
away through the grand hall, and up the wide stair- 
case, to her own exquisitely-furnished room above. 

“It’s so nice, the way papa always settles these 
things,” she thought ; “ what a perfect gentleman he 
is ! ” and her face grew tender with the thought. 

Few girls bear just the same relation to their 
fathers that Bessie Bandall bore to hers. Having lost 
her young mother when a baby, she had grown up 
with him for father, mother, friend, companion, — 
every thing. They read together, sang and played 
together (she accompanying his silver flute on her 


76 


TRANSPLANTED. 


fine Chickering grand), rode, walked, talked, and 
traveled together. Having inherited ample means, 
and being a devoted student, Mr. Randall had always 
made very light of the luxuries and position which 
had been his daily atmosphere since birth, and had 
laid great stress on the wider learning and culture 
which most moneyed men find little leisure to indulge 
in ; and Bessie had grown up utterly free from false 
pride, or undue satisfaction over the many advan- 
tages of her lot, and with that merry carelessness as 
to differences in position or caste, which a princess 
might show, in her calm assurance of being quite 
above criticism in that respect. 

So she often shocked her more conservative mates, 
and was, in turn, annoyed by what was to her a sense- 
less feeling of exclusiveness in them. And she was 
right, only she failed to remember that pride has as 
many heads as the old hydra of mythology, and that 
her over-riding independence might come under one 
of these, just as truly as what she called Lou Talbot’s 
snobbery, under another. 

Meanwhile, her bright, sunny nature and frank 
ways made her a great favorite, even aside from her 
position in life, and few girls queen it more indis- 
putably than did Bessie Randall in the busy town 
which had always been her home. It was, perhaps, 
this air of hers that made her father often paraphrase 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


77 


her royal name, Elizabeth, into his fond “ Queenie,” 
the one pet name he ever gave her. 

After dinner, as she stood beside him on the broad 
veranda, taking a lazy look over the sun-flecked lawn, 
before settling themselves to their books, she gave a 
pleased cry, and broke away from his side. 

“ Arlene, you darling ! ” she cried merrily, spring- 
ing down the steps, and linking her arm within that 
of her life-long friend and neighbor, Miss Leaven- 
worth. 

“ Good afternoon, Bessie ! How do you do, Mr. 
Kandall ? ” was her blithe greeting. “ I thought you 
were ‘ wearying ’ for me, as Ginie says, so I slipped 
over, and besides, I think mother is anxious to have a 
talk with you, my dear sir ; she has a fresh letter 
from Bert.” 

“ I hope he’s well and prospering,” said the gentle- 
man, as he shook hands. 

“ Oh, yes ; I don’t think she needs either advice, 
or sympathy, to-day, but she does so love to talk 
about him ! ” laughing in her low, sweet way. 

“ Singular ! ” was his merry reply ; “ such an un- 
interesting subject as that boy ! ” and all joined in 
the laugh at his raillery. 

Then the girls (for Arlene was only a girl, though 
wise and mature for her years) seated themselves in 
the cane piazza-chairs, while Mr. Bandall, stepping 


78 


TRANSPLANTED. 


into the hall for his hat and gold-headed cane, took 
his way eastward, to the house of his old friend not 
far distant. 

“ How do you like our new acquisition, Arlene ? ” 
asked Bessie, roguishly. 

“ In Sunday-school ? Miss Patty’s friend ? That’s 
what I came to talk about. And first, what is her 
name — her last name ? I didn’t quite make it out 
when Miss Patty introduced her, and the child 
seemed so shy, I wouldn’t ask her.” 

“ It was Silsby, I think ; I heard it quite distinctly 
— yes, Jacqueline Silsby ; quite aristocratic, isn’t it ? ” 

Miss Arlene looked at her as if in a brown study 
for a moment, then collected herself, and remarked 
in an absent way, — 

“ Silsby, was it ? That sounds familiar somehow. 
Are you going to have her here Wednesday evening ? ” 

“ Certainly ; she’s in the class.” 

Bessie’s manner was a trifle aggressive, but Arlene 
only smiled. 

“ You are right. I was going to suggest it. You 
expect us at six, I believe ? ” 

“ About ; but you promised to come early, and 
help see to the arrangements, you know.” 

“ I will ; but tell me all you can about this stranger.” 

“ I don’t know one thing, only that she’s evidently 
some friend, or relative of Miss Patty’s, and I think 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND BESSIE. 


79 


that’s a pretty good indorsement ; though Lou Talbot 
does think her ‘ kitcheny,’ — 1 1 thank thee, Jew, for 
teaching me that word ! ’ ” 

Arlene laughed merrily. 

“ How exactly like Lou Talbot — and Bessie Ran- 
dall ! I’ve been secretly wondering who had abused 
you, you were evidently taking up the cudgels so 
fiercely ! I might have thought of Lou ! ” 

“ Arlene ; you talk as if — as if” — 

“ As if you ought not to take up the cudgels ? No, 
no, I don’t mean exactly that ; only, Bessie, do the 
rest of us justice, I beg, and believe that we don’t all 
stand ready to give our fellow-beings a kick down 
hill, if they’re not exactly of our stamp ! ” 

Bessie flushed hotly. 

“ Arlene, that’s the unkindest thing you ever said ! 
It can't be I deserve it.” 

“ Pardon me, dear, I never meant to be unkind ; 
indeed, I didn’t, only Bessie, you dear little hedge- 
hog ! is it necessary to bristle quite so easily ? Are 
all your friends deficient in common humanity, or, 
let us say, ordinary politeness ? Didn’t your manner 
imply almost that a moment since ? ” 

“ If it did, to you , Arlene, I ought to be — 
snubbed ! ” 

“ Which you never will be, good Queen Bess, for 
every body knows you wouldn’t be snubbed, so what’s 


80 


TRANSPLANTED. 


the use trying ? But there ! that’s about as near a 
quarrel as we’ve ever come, I do believe ; let’s kiss, 
and make up! I want to talk about the choir; Mr. 
Orton is anxious to enlarge it, especially the female 
part, the bass is so heavy ; now don’t you think ” — 
and the girls were soon deep in a discussion which 
would not especially interest us now. 


CHAPTER VII. 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 

The next day Jacqueline, nearly extinguished 
under a huge green sun-bonnet of Miss Patty’s, was 
digging luxuriously in the flower beds, when a sudden 
voice startled her with a cheery, — 

“ Good-morning ! ” 

She hastily sprang to her feet, and looking around 
discovered Miss Arlene and Bessie in a pony-phaeton 
at the gate. They were smiling down upon her from 
under its big red parasol, and looked companionable 
and friendly enough, but for a minute she was unde- 
cided whether to speak or run. 

“ Good-morning,” she said at length ; “ I’ll call 
Miss Barnes,” and whisked into the house before 
either could speak. 

Shortly, that lady appeared, the mate to the 
green sun-bonnet on her head, and limped briskly 
down the path. 

“ Dear ! dear ! ” she cried, “ if you aren’t a sight 
for tired eyes ! Come in ! come in ! ” 

But both merrily declined, pleading business, and 
Bessie said, — 


81 


82 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Arlene and I are going to entertain her class at 
our house next Wednesday afternoon and evening, 
and would like to see your young friend with the 
rest. Will she come ? ” looking pleasantly at Jacque- 
line, who hung back near the piazza steps. 

Miss Patty’s face suddenly fell. Here was a com- 
plication which had never occurred to her. It was all 
right that she, lonely, and settled in all her ways, 
should receive and harbor this waif from the Reform 
School ; but could she, ought she, to introduce her 
into the houses of her friends, without explaining the 
true state of the case ? 

No, it would never do ; yet, on the other hand, 
could she let Jacqueline’s story get abroad, and per- 
haps expose her, poor child ! to neglect, abuse, and 
ridicule, thus defeating the very end for which she 
had received her into her home ? 

It was indeed a conundrum, and the puzzle and an- 
noyance of it were so plainly reflected in her honest 
face that all saw it. Jacqueline, hurt and angry, 
made some inarticulate sound and ran in-doors, at 
which Arlene said, quickly, — 

“ It is all right ; we understand ! ” while Bessie 
added, sturdily, — 

“ I see, Miss Patty, she’s your servant-maid, but 
that’s no matter ! She is in the class, and, doubtless, 
in God’s sight is as good as the best of us, even if 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 


83 


she does have to work for a living ; there’s no dis- 
grace in that ! ” 

Miss Patty shook her head slowly. 

“ It isn’t just that ; I hate to tell it, but I believe I 
can trust you both to let it go no farther ; she’s from 
the Keform School.” 

Both girls started. This was, indeed, a surprising 
revelation, and Bessie asked, under her breath, — 

“ Oh, what did she do ? ” 

“ Nothing, nothing, I really believe,” was the ear- 
nest reply, “ only she was found in dreadful company, 
and had no decent friends, so they sent her up on a 
charge of vagrancy.” 

“ It doesn’t seem possible ! ” exclaimed Arlene, 
softly, thinking of the delicate, clean-cut features, and 
beautiful eyes, which had so attracted her the day be- 
fore. “ Poor, poor child ! ” and her eyes were wet with 
pity. 

Bessie did not at once speak; she was too busy 
thinking* 

“ Miss Patty,” she said, at last, “ I’ve a scheme for 
giving her this pleasure, without a chance of offend- 
ing anybody. Wouldn’t she be willing to come and 
help me in waiting on the guests ? Arlene is going 
to, and I often ask my friends. If it continues as 
warm as this, I shall have them sit about at small 
tables on the lawn, and, as the class is large, this will 


84 


TRANSPLANTED. 


give us all quite enough to do, carrying things to and 
from the house, where the servants will be busy. 
Then, she can have her supper afterwards, with us, 
and not feel so awkward as she might with the 
others ; what do you think about it, Miss Patty ? ” 

The good lady smiled, evidently much relieved. 

“I’ll explain it to her. Yes, I think that will be 
the only thing to do. The child must learn to under- 
stand that she cannot be exactly like the other girls, I 
suppose, poor little thing! and I know you will be 
kindness itself. I don’t know as I did just right to 
ask you to take her into your class, Arlene, but it was 
just because I felt you and Bessie would be her truest 
friends when you came to know and ” — 

“ My dear Miss Patty ! I’m so glad you did ask 
me ; I feel honored by your confidence ! You can 
count on us ‘through good and evil report,’ can’t she, 
Bessie ? ” 

“ Every time ! ” exclaimed that young lady, with 
more emphasis than elegance, and, bidding Miss 
Patty be sure and send her, they drove briskly away. 

After thoughtfully watching them beyond the turn 
at the corner, Miss Patty turned 'slowly towards the 
house. 

“ Jacqueline !” she called at the door. “Jacque- 
line ! ” 

There was no answer. 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 85 

“She’s out in the garden, probably,” she said to 
herself, thinking still pitifully of the child she was 
beginning to love, as she went through to the dining- 
room. She was intending to call her from the back 
door, when a sudden remembrance of some neglected 
duty turned her steps towards the conservatory for a 
moment. J ust as she reached the open glass door a 
low sob sounded from the fragrant dimness of one 
corner. 

Startled at this, she stepped quickly in, and was 
grieved to see Jacqueline crouched down close to the 
violet bank, her elbows resting upon her knees, and 
her face buried in her hands. 

“ Why, Jacqueline ! ” she exclaimed, inexpressibly 
touched by the despairing abandon of her attitude, 
“ what is it, child ? ” and, stooping forward, she laid a 
hand gently on the bowed head. Another sob, deep 
and strong, shook the little body beneath her, but 
there was no answer, and Miss Patty looked around 
helplessly, as if asking advice of the listening blos- 
soms on all sides. 

But they only exhaled their perfume in silence, 
and perhaps Miss Patty took the lesson home, for she 
seated herself, without further comment, upon the edge 
of the violet bank, and, drawing Jacqueline’s bowed 
head into her lap, stroked it in mute sympathy. 

The child wept unrestrainedly at this, for some 


86 


TRANSPLANTED. 


time longer, and when, at last, she grew more quiet, 
Miss Patty said, resolutely, — 

“ Now, my dear, wipe your eyes, and tell me what 
it is ! ” 

But Jacqueline, while obeying the former injunc- 
tion, could not so readily do the latter without more 
questioning ; for she had been too little used to de- 
scribing her own feelings, hitherto, to have words at 
her command, now. Little by little, Miss Patty drew 
her out, her surprise constantly deepening to find this 
neglected child of a nature so delicately sensitive. 

At last, the broken story was told ; how Jacqueline 
had felt and understood the astonished looks of Miss 
Arlene and Bessie, and Miss Patty’s evident embar- 
rassment ; how she had also felt the difference in the 
class, last Sunday, and that it all made her feel just 
how “ horrid ” she was, and how she was sure no one 
would ever want to know her, and there was no use 
trying to be anybody. 

“ You’d better let me go back to Ma’am’s,” she 
added, with a fresh burst of tears. “ There I’m as 
good as the rest, anyhow. I’m just as out o’ place 
here as them weeds in that bank,” she added, aptly, 
pointing with a passionate gesture to a clump, or two, 
of sorrel among the violets. 

Miss Patty laughed softly, and, taking the hand that 
had made the gesture, patted it with a gentle touch. 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 87 

“ Think a minute, Jacqueline; do you really sup- 
pose, if we should send you back to the old life, that 
you could be happy there ? ” 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” she cried, and a shudder shook her 
from head to foot. 

“ So that isn’t to be thought of ! ” said Miss Patty, 
promptly. “ It’s plain, too, that you are not happy 
as you are ; now, what is to be done ? ” 

Jacqueline shook her head, helplessly. 

“ Get beyond as quickly as you can ; that’s all there 
is to do ! You are growing fast, Jacqueline, growing 
in every way; your very feelings about this prove it. 
Only keep on, then, and by and by you need not be 
ashamed of yourself in the best company. See here, 
child ! do you remember that large fern you saw me 
transplant from the woods a while ago, which you 
thought, at first, was going to die, it looked so wilted 
and yellow ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 

“ Well, come and see it now,” and, wondering at this 
sudden change of subject, Jacqueline followed, her tear- 
ful eyes brightening with pleasure to find the plant now 
a graceful thrifty growth of beautifully-veined leaves. 

Always delighting in plant life, Jacqueline forgot 
her own trouble a moment to admire it. 

“ Why, Miss Barnes, it’s handsomer than ever, isn’t 
it ? How pretty those leaves are ! ” 


88 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Yes, my dear. You see it had to have a little 
time to get used to its new home. It, like you, 
Jacqueline, has been transplanted from the mire 
into finer soil, and at first drooped a little with the 
change — just as you do now ; but, in this warm moist 
air, you’ll be astonished to see what a great, fine 
plant it will become; just as you, Jacqueline, will, I 
hope, grow to be a good, noble woman ! ” 

The child’s eyes were now shining with interest. 

“ So I’ve been transplanted, Miss Barnes ? ” 

“ Yes, and I want you to bring all your strength 
and common-sense to your aid, to make you grow 
symmetrical and fine ! Now, let’s look things 
squarely in the face. You are, still, virtually an in- 
mate of the Reform School, and will be for two years 
and a half, and, as such, you are not so favorably sit- 
uated as most girls. Still, Jacqueline, you are not 
quite desolate; this isn’t such a bad home, is it? 
And, at any rate, I like you, my child ! ” 

“ O Miss Barnes ! You be good, and it’s a beauti- 
ful home ! ’Tain’t that ; and if I thought” — 

“ Well, if you thought ? ” 

“ If I thought you wouldn’t never be ashamed of 
me, I wouldn’t care so much ! ” 

“ Then you needn’t care, child, for I haven’t an idea 
of being ashamed of you. But now, you must try 
your best to mend your speech and manners. Don’t 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 


89 


say be for are, and wouldn't never for would never, nor 
’tain’t for it isn’t ; but try hard to do in all things as I 
tell you. Nothing shows the lack of early breeding 
so quickly as these little slips of the tongue, or care- 
less indecencies of manner. I See plainly nothing 
will content you short of real ladyhood, and I believe 
you can attain to it if you try ; but there’s something 
more important even than good manners, Jacque- 
line ” — 

The girl gave her a quick, appreciative look. 

“ I know ; being good.” 

“ And loving God.” 

“ I do, Miss Barnes ; I do love Him. He’s been so 
good to me; but it’s awful hard bein’ good all to 
onct ! ” 

“ ‘ All at once,’ you mean. So it is ! It’s trying, 
trying all the time, knowing, however, that we have 
but to ask, and we will receive help. But now let 
me tell you Bessie Randall’s plan ; ” and she un- 
folded it in a way to make Jacqueline see its real 
friendliness and delicacy. 

“ Yes, I’d like to go,” she said at last, “ but if they 
dare to laugh at me ! ” and her eyes flashed through 
the half-dried tears. 

“If they laugh, you will not notice,” said Miss 
Patty, quietly. “ A lady never notices such things, 
and why should she ? Those who laugh are plainly 


90 


TRANSPLANTED. 


the ill-bred persons, then, and so not worth a thought. 
Just do right, Jacqueline, keep your temper, say 
little, and Fll warrant you a pleasant evening. But 
come, now, we must tie up this heliotrope, and re- 
move some of those smaller plants into a sunnier 
spot. Ah, child, the scent of heliotrope always makes 
me think of Bert’s mother ; she was so delicate and 
refined, yet strong and hardy, too ! Try and be like 
her, child, and you may laugh at all vulgar comments 
and ridicule.” 

“ Was she nicer than Miss Arlene ? ” asked the girl, 
jealous for her teacher. 

“ Yes, in a way, for trouble brought out all there 
was in her, and made her patient sweetness something 
wonderful. Arlene has had only sunshine, and some 
plants bloom better in the shade, you know. Now 
run in, dear, and get that ball of twine on the kitchen 
shelf” — and when Jacqueline returned with it, Miss 
Patty was so brisk and business-like she dared not 
ask any more questions. 

Wednesday dawned, briskly showery, but, to Jacque- 
line’s inexpressible relief, it cleared gloriously by 
noon. She did her morning work in an excitement 
that fairly made her tremulous, and seized every op- 
portunity to run up to her little room, and lay out her 
afternoon’s toilet. 

It was a very simple one ; the same gray suit, with 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 91 


a fresh ruffle in the neck ; and, as Jacqueline looked 
it over, a sudden thought of a delicate blue satin bow, 
which she had seen nestling against Bessie’s white 
neck, came to her mind. 

“ How pretty it did look ! ” she thought. “ ’Twa’n’t 
limpsy, nor creased a bit. Dear ! if I had such a 
bow, wouldn’t I be fine ? I wonder if Miss Barnes 
has got any ribbons ; well ’tain’t, it isn’t, I mean, 
likely she’d lend ’em to me, anyhow. She might, too, 
I should think ; I work hard enough to earn ’em ! ” 
and a discontented frown furrowed her brow. 

Yes, Jacqueline was, indeed, growing ; not only in 
Christian graces and longings after refinement, but 
also in that vanity and love of dress which, alas ! are 
too apt to accompany them, it being so hard to keep 
within the bounds of that decency and cleanliness 
which are next to Godliness, without stepping over 
the often invisible line into that pride and deceitful- 
ness of heart, which are so fatal to all spiritual 
growth. In the old days her rags and unkempt hair 
had given her no trouble ; her life seemed all of a 
piece — careless, loose, and given over to dirt and deg- 
radation ; but now, with her true desire to be better, 
grew also the false one to seem finer, which might, 
if indulged, become a sad. soul-benumbing fault. So 
do the wheat and tares grow in our hearts to-day, as 
they grew in the days of Christ, and will always 


92 


TRANSPLANTED. 


grow, till the evil falls away in the light of His perfect 
presence, leaving the good triumphant and immortal ! 

The morning was nearly gone when Miss Patty 
sent her upstairs for the spectacles she had left on 
her bureau. As Jacqueline stepped towards this bu- 
reau, she saw, at once, that the upper drawer was 
partly open. In plain sight, just within, lay a gayly- 
bordered handkerchief, upon which rested, not a blue, 
but a rich cherry satin bow, the vivid coloring of 
which gave her a positive thrill of pleasure. 

“Oh, if I had that!” she thought, while her 
eyes feasted on its warm splendor. “I never see — 
saw — Miss Barnes wear any such ; ” and, with a 
sigh of longing, she slipped her hand into the drawer, 
and touched its glossy smoothness with the tip of her 
finger. 

The touch pleased her quite as much as the color- 
ing ; for, as you have already seen, this child was 
endowed with that over-sensitive temperament we call 
the aesthetic, for want of a better word, in which beauty 
and grace seem absolutely necessary to contentment. 

Then slowly, as if in spite of herself, she drew the 
bow out and placed it against her neck, just as Bes- 
sie’s had been placed. 

Excitement had tinged her cheeks and brightened 
her eyes, and as she looked in the glass it was with a 
leap of the pulses to see herself so pretty. 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 93 

“ I ain’t so bad ! ” she whispered exultingly. “ I 
could be nice, too, if I had a chance, I could ! ” and 
then a temptation came to her, so sharp and strong it 
seemed irresistible. 

She would “ borrow ” this bow for the occasion. 
Probably Miss Patty would never miss it. With her 
rheumatism she did not often climb the stairs to her 
room, and she might not go up at all, till Jacqueline 
was home again from the party, when, doubtless, she 
could slip it back into the drawer before its absence 
was discovered. 

She turned with it in her hand to go to her own 
room, and it was both curious and painful to see how 
this act made her look again like the Gem-street waif 
of a few months ago. The head craned anxiously 
forward, the quick - glancing, steel-like eyes, the 
stealthy step, and cringing attitude, all unconsciously 
expressed the old degradation with startling accuracy. 

But as she stole quick glances right and left, her 
eyes suddenly lighted upon Miss Patty’s daily text 
chart, hung conspicuously on the wall, whose large 
type permitted her to read with unusual ease these 
warning words : — 

" Thou shalt not steal ! ” 

“ I ain’t stealing ! ” she cried fiercely, quite aloud, 
as if she had been suddenly accused; and then a 


94 


TRANSPLANTED . 


change came over her. She threw back her head and 
drew herself erect, the hateful slyness left her face, 
while in its place came a beautiful blush of intense 
shame. She stood quite still, looking straight at 
those words, and her eyes grew soft and true again. 

“ If this isn’t stealing, it’s next thing to it,” she 
murmured. - “ And oh ! I was going to be God’s 
child ! I know I shouldn’t ought to touch this bow 
when ’tisn’t mine, but I did so want to look like 
Bessie Randall ! I wonder if I’d be a realer lady if 
I went without the bow and minded the good God. 
Yes, I guess I would,” and, laying it back again, just 
where it was before, Jacqueline picked up Miss 
Patty’s spectacles and fled from temptation. 

That lady, sitting placidly in her favorite rocker in 
the parlor below, never suspected, as she took them 
with a careless “ Thank you,” what a long stride for- 
ward her protegee had made. 

It was nearly five, and J acqueline stood before her 
bit of a mirror taking a last look before going to the 
party. It was not a perfectly satisfied one, for her 
innate good taste still protested that the neutral- 
tinted suit and pale face needed a touch of color to 
relieve them, though she was inexpressibly thankful 
that her soul, at least, was fair and free from the 
guilt of that “ borrowed ” ribbon, when, after a light 
knock, Miss Patty entered. 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 95 

“ Ah ! all dressed ? ” she said pleasantly. “ And 
you look very well too ; but girls like gay colors, I 
know, so I brought you these,” and oh ! could it be ? 
the dear old lady had actually laid the gay handker- 
chief on the stand, and was pinning that identical 
satin bow against her neck ! 

“ I declare,” she exclaimed, “ it’s very becoming ! 
You look thoroughly lady-like. Tuck your handker 
chief in so, to show the border. Why, I’m really 
proud of you ! ” 

But something mighty was stirring in the girl’s 
heart and swelling it to bursting. She gave a sound 
that was almost a moan, and putting her arms around 
her kind friend’s withered neck, gave her the first 
kiss she had ever offered to bestow. 

“ Miss Barnes,” she murmured, “ I must tell you. 
I ain’t good, like you think I am. This morning I 
saw it in the drawer — that beautiful bow — and I 
wanted it more than I ever wanted any thing before. 
I — I took it out to hide it for to-night, and then I 
saw that on the wall about stealing, you know, and 
I put it back. Oh, I’m afraid you won’t ever think 
I can get to be good ! ” 

But Miss Patty was heartily returning the caress. 

i( ( There is none good ; no, not one,’ ” she quoted 
solemnly. 11 Christ himself said that, Jacqueline. 
But you conquered the temptation : you put it back. 


96 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Now I know you are indeed trying. Now Pm sure 
you can be trusted. We’ll try together, Jacqueline, 
— you and I, — and ask Christ to help us ; ” and from 
that hour some invisible, but not unfelt, barrier 
dropped away from between them, and the two stood 
on a more equal footing than would have seemed 
possible a week ago. 

For each was a King’s daughter, bound for the 
same country, lighting the same battles, longing for 
the same victory; what better could they do than 
help each other side by side, the wisdom and expe- 
rience of the one offsetting the faith and strong en- 
deavor of the other ? 

As Jacqueline approached the Randall grounds she 
saw that the guests were already assembling, and, in 
the afternoon shadows which nearly covered the 
smooth, sloping lawn, little knots of girls in bright 
attire were making pictures of themselves here and 
there, their young voices and care-free laughter float- 
ing to meet her as she timidly advanced. 

Evidently, Bessie had been on the lookout, for she 
met her at the gate, with so bright a smile of wel- 
come that Jacqueline’s shrinking embarrassment 
changed into something like easy assurance, as she 
asked, — 

“ Am I late ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! just in good time. Come and take off 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 9T 


your things, and then we’ll go and arrange matters 
with Miss Arlene. How nice you look ! ” she added, 
as she took the girl’s hat, and noted her flushed 
cheeks and tasteful dress. 

Jacqueline was learning fast, for she said simply, 
“ Thank you,” and added, “Now I’m ready,” with a 
business air that amused Bessie. 

“Very well — but first you must be presented to 
papa ; I think he’s still in the library.” 

They crossed the hall, and, as they entered the room 
opposite, Mr. Bandall rose to greet them. But as his 
eyes fell carelessly upon Jacqueline they seemed to 
dilate, and remained fixed upon her, in a stare entirely 
unlike the usual elegant manner of this courtly gen- 
tleman. 

“Papa, this is Miss Jacqueline Silsby,” said Bessie, 
a touch of surprised rebuke in her tone. 

“ Miss Silsby ? ” he spoke in an abstracted manner, 
as if his thoughts were far away, “ A niece of Miss 
Patty’s, I believe ? ” 

“No, sir,” said Jacqueline, promptly, and he lis- 
tened to her voice with curious intentness, “I am 
only her — her help. I live with her, and help her 
with the work.” 

“ Ah ! ” raising his eyebrows surprisedly. “ And 
where is your home ? ” 

But here Bessie interposed quickly. 


98 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“Now, father mine, do put off your catechism, or 
you’ll spoil my supper ! The croquettes are frying, 
the chocolate is boiling, and I’m getting as wild as a 
witch ! ” 

“ Which, I believe, is not an unusual state for you, 
my daughter,” looking at her with an amused air, 
“ but don’t let me hinder you — I’ll see this young 
lady again,” and, breathing more freely, the girls 
escaped to the back of the house. The housekeeper 
and maids were only awaiting the word, to place 
the small tables out of doors, it having been thought 
mild enough to do so, — if supper was promptly 
served, — as the day had been unusually summer-like 
for October. 

In this Bessie left Jacqueline to assist, while she 
hurried forward to receive more guests — and soon 
the company were all seated about the little tables, 
while our three girls took from the maids the dishes 
handed from the kitchen, and passed them about. 

It was a pretty scene — the green, smooth lawn, 
dotted with shrubs and trees in their rich autumn 
coloring ; the warm setting sun throwing its golden 
light over all, and bringing out the sheen in the girls’ 
tresses ; and the glitter of the glass and silver around 
which they were gathered, — a pretty scene, that filled 
Jacqueline with a deep delight. 

“ How easy it must be for them to stay good ! ” she 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 99 


thought in her ignorance, never dreaming of the petty 
jealousies, heart-burnings, and longings, their gay 
manners and fine dresses covered. But she had only 
an instant for this thought, when the girls fluttered 
down — “like a flock of pigeons,” thought Jacqueline, 
— into their places. Then Bessie gave the word, and 
her duties began. 

It was new work to her, but she kept close to Bes- 
sie, who was quick to prompt her by a kind sugges- 
tion, when she seemed at a loss. 

“ Pass the dishes to the left of the person, always ; 
that leaves the right hand free to take the food,” 
she whispered hurriedly, once, and Jacqueline did 
not make that mistake again. 

It was all quite informal, for most of the girls knew 
each other well ; and their merry badinage flew back 
and forth, making Jacqueline smile brightly now and 
then. 

Several remembered her, and spoke kindly — some 
watched with a wonder as to whom, or what she 
might be. Bessie did not treat her as a servant, yet 
scarcely with the intimacy of a friend — it was really 
a puzzle. Besides, there was something in Jacque- 
line’s manner, so entirely free from servility, ^ret so 
far removed from self-assertion, that one must have 
really strained a point to treat her ill-naturedly, and 
these girls were neither ill-natured, nor over-proud. 


100 


TRANSPLANTED. 


She kept well in the background, however, and had 
little to say, and did not again see Mr. Randall to 
speak with him ; but the next day he asked, 
abruptly, — 

“ Bessie, what do you know of this Silsby girl ? ” 
and Bessie colored a little, with embarrassment. 

She never kept any thing from her father, but now 
was most reluctant to tell him V who this new friend 
really was, for she had grown so much interested in 
her as to dislike the idea of giving her up. 

“And I shall have to,” she thought, “if papa 
knows. He’s so particular about the company I 
keep ; that is, in one way. He doesn’t mind poverty 
in my friends, but they must be respectable, and of 
good character ; and I’m afraid he won’t think this 
poor Jacqueline is respectable ! ” 

So she said, slowly, — 

“I really can’t tell you much about her, papa; I 
think she is without home, or friends, except Miss 
Patty.” 

“ But where did she find her ? This is a new 
thing ! where did the child live, before ? ” 

“ At — the — Reform School.” 

“ Tlfe — what ? ” 

“ The Reform School at A .” 

“ But how was that ? Was she dishonest ? ” 

“No, no! Miss Patty says not, but she had no 


TEMPTATIONS AND TEA-PARTIES. 101 


friends, and was living with dreadful people ; I don’t 
really know much about it, papa* but I can’t believe 
that sweet, refined face belongs to a bad heart, can 
you ? ” 

“ No,” he said, slowly, “ I can not ! Poor, unfor- 
tunate child ! Bessie, I wish you’d invite her here 
some time when we’re alone; I want to talk with 
her ; ” and you can imagine how gladly Bessie gave 
her promise to do so. 

“ And to think how little I knew him ! ” she said to 
herself, remorsefully, as she pressed her lips to his 
gray mustache with unusual fervor before leaving 
the room. 

Yet it was destined to be many months before this 
promise was kept, for not three weeks later the Ban- 
dall house was left to the housekeeper, Mrs. Feegles, 
while Bessie and her father were off, in answer to an 
urgent invitation to join a party, who had made up a 
charming programme for a winter in the South. As 
this gave Mr. Bandall an opportunity to prosecute 
certain geological studies in which he was deeply in- 
terested, he had been quick to accept. 

• 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A MEETING WITH OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 

Meanwhile, Jacqueline’s life for the next few 
months flowed on smoothly enough. Miss Patty and 
her “ child,” as she loved to call Jacqueline, were 
growing used to each other, and there was little of 
jar or unpleasantness in their intercourse. 

Jacqueline had begun school in earnest with the 
winter term, commencing in November, and was 
learning with a rapidity which delighted her 
teachers ; while her quick sensitiveness made her 
exert herself more than would most young girls, to 
correct herself in speech and manners. Miss Patty 
often wondered at her readiness to catch little tricks 
of decorum from those she met, and was much 
amused to see what a second edition of Miss Arlene 
she was becoming, in her dress, walk, and conversa- 
tion. 

“ They look alike, too ! ” she thought, one day after 
Arlene had been to call. “ Queer, how imitation can 
even change the features into a likeness so strong ! ” 

For it was no secret that Jacqueline felt for her 
teacher an unbounded admiration, while Arlene, in 
102 


OLD AND NEW EMENDS. 


103 


turn, confessed to a singular fondness for the child, 
with a vague sense of having known her in some 
other state of being, which she always laughed at as 
absurd. 

Still, the two rarely met, except on Sundays, for 
Arlene’s mother was much broken in health, and had 
suffered so greatly in the past that she now shrunk 
from seeing any one, except a few very old and dear 
friends, of whom Mr. Eandall was the chief. So, 
when Bert was away, the large mansion was mostly 
closed, and its life was still, and rather dull ; though 
Arlene never admitted this, even to herself, keeping 
so busy with good works, reading, painting, and 
.music, that she had little time for dullness or discon- 
tent. 

She had been to Miss Patty’s several times ; some- 
times for flowers, once or twice for friendly calls. 
She always had a kind word for Jacqueline, but 
the child had never yet been to her home, and had no 
idea what kind of a being Mrs. Leavenworth might 
be. 

As the days grew colder, Miss Patty’s old rheu- 
matic pains returned, and Jacqueline was kept almost 
constantly busy when in the house ; but, by early 
rising, and extra diligence, she still managed to gq to 
school, at least for recitations, thus keeping her 
place in her classes, while daily learning deeper les- 


104 


TRANSPLANTED. 


sons of patience, trust, and all heavenly wisdom. Her 
mind, soul, and body expanded in concert, and grew 
more beautiful through trial and care. 

But the “ shut in ” months were soon over, and the 
spring sunshine was kissing the sleeping princess 
of Nature into life and beauty once more. It was 
May, and a Saturday such as school-children love. 
The early chill of the morning had yielded to the 
genial sun of noon, as Jacqueline, having helped Miss 
Patty through the baking, and washed the few din- 
ner-dishes, gladly put on her hat, to deliver a basket 
of cut flowers for the dear lady, who had added, in 
her kind way, — 

“ And you needn’t hurry home, dear ; it’s too lovely 
a day to stay in the house.” 

So Jacqueline tucked her portfolio and box of 
drawing pencils under her arm, determined to try and 
sketch a view she greatly admired ; for the three 
hours a week which the public school she attended 
gave to drawing was already proving that she had no 
mean talent that way. 

She went down the path with a blithesome tread, 
and a bright, rosy face, whose expression was as un- 
like the old Jacqueline as possible. The air was per- 
fect, the luscious odor from her basket intoxicated 
her senses, and the feeling that she was loved and 
cared for, fully trusted, and freely given this beauti- 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


105 


ful afternoon for her own pleasure, filled her heart 
with rapture. 

“ God is good to me ! ” she thought. “ I shall love 
and serve him always. How little I thought, that 
dreadful day I was arrested and put in jail, what 
good would come of it all ! Then, I hated every body 
— oh ! how I hated them ! and to-day I could love 
the whole world ; yes, even Mike and Hick ! I’d 
help them, if I could, for it must be because they 
don’t know what it is to be good that they act so ; if 
they knew, they’d slyink from the old life, just as I 
do.” 

She left her basket at a pretty house near the Ran- 
dall’s, and passing by the latter place, a little later, 
was pleased to see that doors and windows were open 
again, showing that its occupants must have returned. 
She lingered a little, hoping to see some one, when 
Bessie’s voice came from behind some shrubbery — 
“ Ah, Jacqueline ! ” and a moment later she was dash- 
ing through the gate. 

Mr. Randall followed more slowly. They were 
evidently about to start for a walk, somewhere, and 
Bessie, kissing Jacqueline in her frankly cordial way, 
said merrily, — 

“ I’m so glad to be home again that I expect every 
body to go into ecstasies over me ! ” 

Jacqueline laughed as merrily as she. Her old, 


106 


TRANSPLANTED. 


painful shyness was rapidly disappearing, and she 
was growing in this new atmosphere like the fern in 
the greenhouse. 

“ I am as glad to see you as you are to get home. 
The house has looked so lonesome I’ve felt like cry- 
ing, every time I went past.” 

. Then she turned to greet Mr. Randall, who had 
reached them, and who gave her the same intent ex- 
amination as when he first met her. 

“ You look well, my child,” he said benignly. “ Evi- 
dently our sharp northern air is^good for you, though 
we old folks do think we must run off to the South in 
winter ; eh, Queenie ? And how is our good Miss 
Patty ? ” 

“Very much better, thank you sir, — she is hardly 
lame at all this weather.” 

“ That’s good — very good! We must give her a 
call soon, Bessie.” 

“Yes, indeed. We’re going now to Mrs. Leaven- 
worth’s, Jacqueline, and we hope to meet Bert there, 
bless him ! An epidemic broke out in school, a week 
ago, so that they’ve had to close for the rest of the 
term.” 

“ Will he have it ? ” asked Jacqueline anxiously, 
but more concerned for Miss Arlene than him- 
self. 

“We hope not. They’ve been very careful to keep 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


107 


the sick by themselves, and Bert’s one of those lucky 
boys who always get off easy. No, I don’t believe 
he’ll have it, do you, papa ? ” 

“ We’ll hope not, at any rate ” — and, with a few 
parting words, Jacqueline passed on, as they were to 
take the opposite direction, to the Leavenworth’s. 

Mr. Kandall looked after her. “ Strange ! ” he 
muttered, “ there’s something ; then, the name — 
Bessie, I do wish you’d invite her to our house, 
soon; I really would like to ask her some ques- 
tions.” 

“ To be sure, papa ; but what is it ? You always 
act so queer when you see her.” 

“ Do I ? well, I feel queer ! I don’t know — I 
can’t tell just what, or how it is ; but — you don’t 
remember Bert’s mother ? ” 

“ Not at all, papa. Why, I was a mere baby ; 
don’t you remember ? ” 

“Yes, yes, to be sure ! ” and he relapsed into one of 
those brown studies which Bessie had learned never 
to interrupt. 

Meanwhile, Jacqueline found the place she wanted 
— a bit of a nook in a tangle of vines, through an oval 
opening in which was a limited view of a corner of 
the lake, with some willows, now in their delicate 
spring green, overshadowing it, while the outline of 
distant mountains just shaded the horizon line. Just 


108 


TRANSPLANTED. 


such a bit as artists love, and one Jacqueline had dis- 
covered by accident, and in which she felt all the 
pride of proprietorship. 

To-day, she was delighted to see that one or two 
cows were standing in the shade-flecked water, put- 
ting the finishing touch to the picture, and she has- 
tened to get at work while they should be in position. 
She was deeply absorbed, and working with almost 
feverish haste, when the murmur of approaching 
voices intruded upon her attention. 

She felt impatient at being disturbed, but not at all 
alarmed; probably the persons, whoever they were, 
would not even see her in her vine-shaded retreat, 
but she did hope they would go away and not bother 
her long. 

But they came nearer, and one voice spoke out 
more sharply, with an oath, “ I tell you, Nick, it’s got 
to be done.” 

Jacqueline nearly dropped her pencil as she lis- 
tened ; too well she knew the voice ! It was Mike 
himself, and the rough, cruel tones made her whole 
soul sicken with dread and fear. Yes, it was Mike, 
as usual planning some villainy, and here was she all 
alone, and too far from help to call out. If they should 
discover her, what would be the result ? 

But Jacqueline had learned the power of prayer, 
and, as she sat motionless as a statue, her whole soul 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


109 


went up in an agonized petition for help and safety. 
Probably there is no Christian living who has not 
felt at some time that his sincere prayer was disre- 
garded, thrust back upon him, indeed, and we can not 
wonder that Jacqueline felt so now, as, after hopefully 
watching the two figures she so well remembered 
pass directly by, and beginning to breathe freely 
once more, she saw Mike carelessly turn to thrust 
back a refractory branch that barred his way, and 
stop with an exclamation of amazement to gaze 
directly into her eyes. 

Bute if she were frightened, Mike was no less so. 
Jacqueline had turned pale to the lips, and her eyes 
were so dilated with terror that superstitious Mike 
felt sure he was actually beholding a ghost — the 
ghost of one he had loved to tease and torment — 
Jack. But her smothered shriek at finding herself 
discovered, thoroughly undeceived him, and with one 
leap forward he caught her by the wrist and dragged 
her out into the open, where Nick stood, too aston- 
ished to make a sound. 

“ What the — ! ” he muttered, looking her all over, 
and bursting into a cruel laugh. 

“ Well, if these ain’t the togs! But you’re Jack, 
all the same ; you can’t fool me ! So you’ve got loose, 
and are livin’ in clover, eh ? Nice way to treat old 
friends, that! Where’d you git so much fuss an’ 


110 


TRANSPLANTED. 


feathers, and bow’d you git it ? That’s what I wants 
to know, eh, Nick ? ” 

The other nodded and drew closer, while Jacqueline 
cowered away from them both with an awful sense of 
helplessness and horror. Her lips were stiff, her 
breath came in painful gasps, she was utterly incapable 
of speaking, and her evident terror angered the boys. 

“ Speak up, can’t you ? ” muttered Nick. “ We ain’t 
agoin’ to hurt you ! Ben’t you our old pard, you 
fool? What ails you?” 

At last she found her voice. 

“ Oh, boys, don’t ! ” she said brokenly. “ I didn’t 
run away. I’ve got a home. A lady took me, and 
she gave me these clothes. I’m trying to be good 
now : I don’t steal ! ” and she shuddered. 

“ Oh ! she don’t, eh ? The pretty, pious doll ! 
See, Nick, she’s got religion, she has ! and she’s gone 
back on her old friends, hang her ! ” Then shaking 
her fiercely, “ Oh, you’re a nice one, you are ! P’raps 
you think we’ll let you off on that ; not much ! If 
you’ve got in with them risterkrats you kin give us 
a few pointers, likely, and that’s jest what we’re arter, 
eh, Nick ? ” 

“Oh, don’t, please don’t! You hurt my wrist!” 
she begged pitifully. “ Do please let me go, Mike ! 
I don’t know any thing to tell you, indeed I don’t. 
Miss Patty’s poor herself, and ” — 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


Ill 


“ Who ? Who’s that ? ” 

“ She’s the lady I live with ; but you mustn’t do 
any thing to her. She’s lame, and she’s poor, and 
she’s good, oh, so good ! Mike, if you’ll let me go, I’ll 
never tell I saw you, and you can go away before 
anybody knows ” — 

“ Knows ! Knows what ? Ha ! you heard us, 
did you ? You know our plans,” with a fierce oath. 
“Now you sha’n’t go, anyhow, till we’ve got this 
thing settled. Sit down there,” pushing her rudely 
back upon the grass, “ and, Nick, you keep a close 
watch, and have your pop ready in case we need it. 
Hate to treat an old friend this way, to be sure ” — 
grinning ironically, “but w’en they turns traitor it’s 
wot they must expect ; ” and he leaned against a tree 
and eyed her savagely. 

Jacqueline’s heart died within her. It must be all 
a mistake, there was no God, no heaven, and she was 
left alone to bear the gibes and insults, perhaps even 
the cruelties of these wretches. 

She looked from one to the other. Mike wore his 
keenest, most ironical look, and Nick the air of half- 
frightened deference, which he always paid to his 
comrade in his greatest villainies. She knew she 
could expect no mercy from either. 

“ Now,” said Mike solemnly, “ seeing you’ve heard 
it all, you’ve got to tell us what we can’t find out 


112 


TRANSPLANTED . 


ourselves ; and that is, where that old coon of a Ran- 
dall keeps all that plate he took away from the bank- 
vault to-day.” 

Jacqueline started in astonishment, hut something 
of her old courage was coming back to her now, so 
she only said, — 

“ Do you mean the Randall on Chestnut Avenue ? ” 

“ That’s the chap, yes ! ” and as he spoke a swift 
thought came to Jacqueline of the day she had 
helped Bessie to wait on the class, when a certain 
closet having been left open in the dining-room, she 
had noticed its velvet-lined shelves, all a-glitter with 
silver. She remembered, too, how thick the door was, 
and that it shut with a snap when some one inadver- 
tently ran against it ; and how it could not be opened 
again until the housekeeper had been sought out, and 
came and unlocked it with a peculiar key she carried, 
along with others, on a steel ring. But even as she 
thought all this in a flash, a dogged look stole over 
her face, and she shut her lips firmly together. 

“ Well,” said Mike impatiently, “ be you agoin’ to 
blow or not ? Fur, ef you’re livin’ with that Miss 
Patty, you kin blow, thet’s certain. I’ve got them ris- 
terkrats down fine, and she’s one o’ them, ef she is 
poor — sorter poor relation or suthin’ ; but she visits 
’em, an’ I’ll bet you do too ; now, tell us what you 
knows.” 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


113 


“ I can’t tell you any thing ; I never was in the 
house but once,” said Jacqueline, firmly. 

11 Bosh ! tell, or I’ll make you ! Onct is enough fur 
a sharp gal like you. Now speak up, Jack, and be 
quick about it too ! You mind Ma’am’s way o’ get- 
tin’ at the fac’s ? ” and, with a brutal leer, he began 
deliberately cutting down a small sapling, and strip- 
ping it of leaves and twigs. 

Jacqueline grew deathly pale with apprehension. 
She knew what a merciless beating meant, and, that 
Mike’s would be even worse than Ma’am’s, she felt 
certain as she watched him. He not only had more 
strength in his stout young arm, but more cruelty in his 
fierce, untrained nature. Ma’am *had been a mother 
once, and thus could relent when her anger died down ; 
but Mike, never! Still, Jacqueline did not speak. 
The memory of Bessie’s kiss was warm on her lips ; 
the thought of her frank, sunshiny smile still cheered 
her heart, while Mr. Randall’s kind tones lingered in 
her ear. Could she betray her best friends ? Could 
she thus requite all Miss Patty’s love and care ? 

“ I’ll die first ! ” she cried fiercely, speaking out 
her thought with unconscious vehemence, as she 
sprang to her feet. “ I tell you, these people are my 
friends ; .they’ve given me the first kind words I ever 
knew ; they’ve made me believe in God and heaven, 
and taught me to hate sin and the old life. No, I 


114 


TRANSPLANTED. 


won’t tell yon a thing, Mike, not if I die for it ; and 
I don’t believe God will let you hurt me ! ” 

“ Don’t, eh ? We’ll see about that ! ” and his face 
grew harder as he bent the sapling between his two 
hands to try its power, and then brought it down 
through the air with a cruel-sounding swish. “Nick, 
you hold her, while I tie her to that tree. We’ll see 
how my lady’s fine togs ’ll look in a few minutes 
from now ! ’Twon’t take long to make rags o’ that 
gownd ! 99 

Nick already had firm hold of her, and Jacqueline 
felt she could not escape ; they were hemmed in by 
thickets of vines, and undergrowth, which would im- 
pede her every step 'should she attempt to run. Some- 
thing of the courage which comes to the martyr came 
to her now. 

“ If they kill me, I’ll be dying for the right,” she 
thought, “ and God will understand. I thought He 
would save me, but Miss Arlene says He knows better 
than we, and this may be best in some way.” 

Nick, meanwhile, though he held her firmly, felt a 
new sensation tugging at his heart-strings. He had 
always liked Jack in the old days, and to see her 
now grown so fine and pretty, and standing here 
brave and true, made him turn sick at the thought of 
hurting her. But his habit of implicit obedience to 
Mike was strong upon him, so he only looked the 



“Hold'on, Mike! 
mind?” — Page 115. 


Give her a minute, can’t you, to make up her 








































































































OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


115 


pity he felt, but dared not relax his hold. He did 
speak, however, — 

“Hold on, Mike; give her a minute, can’t you, to 
make up her mind ? She’ll come ’round yet ; you 
know you never could drive Jack. Now come, Jacky, 
tell us wot you know ; thet’s a good gal ! Mike’s only 
a-bullyin’ ye ! ” 

Even as he spoke the words, there came a clear, 
boyish whistle from the underbrush at their right, 
then a crashing of twigs, and a great dog, followed by 
a fine, tall, handsome lad, carrying a gun, sprang into 
the midst of the strangely-assorted group. 

Jacqueline gave a sudden cry of “ Help ! help ! ” 
Mike yelled “ Bolt ! ” and leaped for the thicket, fol- 
lowed by Nick, while the dog, with a savage growl, 
followed close at their heels. 

The lad looked about him, bewildered. 

“ Shall I shoot them ? What is it ? Are you 
hurt ? How dreadfully pale you are ! What shall I 
do?” 

“ Stay with me ! ” gasped the girl. “ Let ’em go. 
They frightened me dreadfully, but I’m not hurt ; oh, 
please take me safe home ! ” 

“ To be sure ; but where’s that ? ” 

“ At Miss Patty’s ; Miss Barnes’s, you know. I ” — 

“ What ? You don’t say ! Then you must be 
Jacqueline ! ” 


116 


TRANSPLANTED . 


“ I am.” 

“ And I’m Bert. I know all about you from Aunt 
Arl. Well, if this isn’t a lark ! ” and, taking her 
hand, the boy gave it a shake that was almost too 
hearty for comfort. 

Jacqueline laughed, nervously. 

“ I’m so glad to see you ! They frightened me so ! 
You see I was sketching ” — 

“Do you sketch? That’s jolly! So do I. And 
these tramps came along and frightened you ? To 
be sure — the wretches ! Did they say any thing ? 
Didn’t one of them have hold of your arm ? ” 

“ Y — es. They were asking me about some house, 
and I couldn’t tell, and ” — 

“ Yes, I see, poor thing ! Their rough ways nearly 
scared you to death ! Was it some direction they 
were asking ? ” 

“ N — no. Yes — that is ” — 

“Well, well, never mind ! You’re too upset to re- 
member, of course. Here’s your sketching-paper,” 
picking up a piece that had fluttered near them. 

“My portfolio’s in there, too,” she said, pointing to 
the nook where she had been sitting, and Bert soon 
found it. 

“ You look better now,” he said, gazing at her criti- 
cally, as he picked up her hat and set it on her head. 
“ Do you think you can walk home ? ” 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


117 


u Yes, indeed, I’m all right now ! ” and she was 
soon following him at a good pace through the crash- 
ing undergrowth. 

Presently Bert’s pointer joined them, with a strong 
expression of whipped-dogism subduing his whole 
person, and the boy gave a hearty laugh at sight of 
him. 

“ Do see the discouraged droop of those ears and 
that tail ! ” he cried. “ The tramps have evidently 
beaten him off. Poor Chriss ! it’s a shame, so ’tis ! ” 

The dog received his sympathy with a brighter 
look and furious wagging of the tail, while Jacqueline 
gratefully patted his head, feeling that he had taken 
the whipping intended for herself. But in her soul 
was a deeper gratitude. God had heard, and an- 
swered ! She thought she could never doubt him 
again ; little knowing, simple child, that such doubts 
are enemies which must be met and conquered daily, 
and seem often but the stronger after every battle ! 

Bert was a good talker, with something of Bessie’s 
frank, easy air, and, without being in the least for- 
ward or pedantic, showed plainly that he had read 
and studied to some purpose. 

Seeing that Jacqueline was still too nervous to, an- 
swer easily, he began looking over her sketch-book, 
making kindly comments here and there. 

Jacqueline had tried her pencil, or crayons, upon 


118 


TRANSPLANTED. 


nearly every thing in and about the cottage, and 
Bert was greatly amused at a pencil sketch of Miss 
Patty looking for her glasses, while they calmly re- 
posed upon the top of her head. The kindly face, 
with one anxious line between the eyes, and the flurry 
in her movements were well brought out. 

“ It’s perfect ! ” he cried. “ Dear me ! I’ll have 
to look to my laurels, Jacqueline ! And you’ve only 
taken lessons in school, you say ? I declare, you 
make me ashamed of myself ! ” 

“Oh, no!” cried Jacqueline, “I never could begin 
to do any thing so fine as that picture you made 
for Miss Patty — the children in the boat, you 
know.” 

“ Pshaw ! did she tell you I did that ? But it’s only 
a copy you see, anybody can do those. Now, this of 
yours is nature ; you can be more proud of this than 
of a dozen such fine pictures.” 

But Jacqueline looked at him, only half compre- 
hending. She was still densely ignorant in all the 
true principles of art, and thought this merely a com- 
pliment. But she very much enjoyed the talk, and 
felt easier in Bert’s companionship than even in that 
of Bessie. For one thing, she had always been more 
used to boys than girls ; then too, the manner of their 
meeting had dispelled all embarrassment, his fortu- 
nate appearance bringing such entire relief that she 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


119 


felt for him, at once, a deep gratitude and sincere 
friendliness — though she was shy of expressing it. 

As they came near the cottage (for Bert seemed to 
think it necessary to see her to the very door) they 
saw Miss Patty, in her “ regimentals ” as she called 
them, busy setting out plants in the flower-garden. 

Her faded old calico and enormous green sun-bon- 
net brought a smile of kindly humor to Bert’s face, 
for he liked Miss Patty well enough to take regimen- 
tals and all right into his heart. 

Making Jacqueline a gesture to keep still, he stole 
up behind her, and stooping down, clasped two hands 
over the big sun-bonnet and spectacles, holding her 
head tightly against his breast, as he noiselessly 
laughed back at Jacqueline. 

“ Ouch ! Oh ! ” shrieked the good lady, “ who are 
you anyhow ? ’Tisn’t Jacqueline, I’m sure ! No, I 
should say ’twas Bert, if I didn’t know he was over a 
hundred miles away this minute ! ” 

“ ‘ He has the least wisdom who thinks he knows 
the most,’ ” quoted the saucy fellow in deep tones, 
and Miss Patty, with an astonished exclamation, 
wrenched herself free, and was soon, in turn, giving 
him a motherly hug that nearly took his breath away. 

“You blessed boy! Where did you come from, 
and what brings you ? Your grandma isn’t ill ? ” 
“No, indeed, Miss Patty, she’s as blooming as — 


120 


TRANSPLANTED. 


yourself, and that’s saying a good deal ! But we 
had the scarlet fever at school, and ” — 

“ Albert Amory ! you haven’t got the scarlet 
fever ? ” broke in Miss Patty, excitedly, holding him 
at arm’s-length. 

Bert bent double with laughter, in which Jacque- 
line could not help joining heartily. Her life had 
been so sad that laughter had grown almost strange 
to her lips till lately, and as the merry melodious 
peal now joined his boyish one, Miss Patty looked 
from one to the other with delighted eyes. 

“ Bless my heart ! but you gave me a turn, Bert ; 
and scarlet fever’s no laughing matter, I can tell you, 
you thoughtless crickets ! ” shaking her finger at them 
both. “But I am glad to see you, my boy, and no 
mistake. Let’s have tea on the porch, Jacqueline, 
it’s so nice and warm ; and, Bert, I’ve got some straw- 
berry jam left, on purpose for you ! ” 

“ Of course you have, Aunt Patty, and I can get 
outside a whole jar of it in about three minutes, I’m 
so hungry.” 

“ But how did you and J acqueline get acquainted ? ” 
she stopped in the hall-door to ask, looking back and 
fanning herself with the green sun-bonnet. 

“ Oh ! ’twas a regular adventure — tramps, dogs, 
and sketching-books. Let’s have supper, and then 
we’ll tell you all about it.” And without more words, 


OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 


121 


Bert pushed her gently in-doors, and began dragging 
out the small table, with rounded leaves, that stood 
in the hall, while Jacqueline ran delightedly for the 
cloth and plates. The old lady, all in a flutter, with 
her half-limp and flapping sun-bonnet, brought out 
cake and jam, and gathered the few flowers which 
always graced the simple cottage meals. 

They drew up cozily about the small round table, 
and after Miss Patty’s reverent blessing, Bert told in 
his droll way the story of the afternoon as seen from 
his own stand-point, which was simply that Jacque- 
line, having been sketching alone, was rudely inter- 
rupted and roughly questioned by two tramps. 

“ Nothing but boys, but big, hulking, ugly -looking 
fellows, aunty, who had nearly frightened her to 
death, but ran like the cowards they were as soon as 
they saw me with Chriss and the gun.” 

“ Dear, dear ! ” cried Miss Patty, “ you mustn’t 
ever do that again, Jacqueline. It isn’t safe to go off 
in those lonely places without some companion.” 

“No, ma’am,” said Jacqueline meekly. 

“Never mind, Jacqueline,” put in Bert, “I’ll go 
with you. I know some fine bits for sketching. Did 
you ever do sepia?” and the talk drifted into art 
again. 

As for Jacqueline, she never thought of telling the 
real story of the afternoon, for, feeling positive the 


122 


TRANSPLANTED. 


boys would now leave town at once and go back to 
the city and Gem Street, — only an hour’s ride by rail, 
— there was no need to tell. Her life of constant 
repression hitherto had made it seem a strange and 
well-nigh impossible thing to relate her personal ex- 
periences, unless spurred by some necessity such as 
she would have felt had she not been certain their 
design of robbing Mr. Randall’s house would now be 
abandoned. 


CHAPTER IX. 


a picnic, and bert’s story. 

As tlie pleasant days followed each other in quick 
succession, J acqueline saw a great deal of both Bert 
and Bessie, for they were at the cottage nearly every 
day. She did not, however, go to their houses, be- 
cause this was Miss Patty’s busiest time, when she 
needed her help every moment out of school-hours. 
In fact Jacqueline might have had to go back to the old 
method of attending recitations only, but for her two 
friends. Protracted sickness had closed Bert’s school 
for the summer, and he threw himself, heart and 
soul, into the out-door work of gardening for his old 
friend, whenever he was not out gunning with Chriss, 
or riding his mustang Jocko ; and nearly every after- 
noon, when Jacqueline hurried home from school, she 
found him with Bessie and Miss Patty hard at work 
digging, raking, or weeding in the fresh, moist soil. 
Then she would join them, and they would keep up 
as jolly a clatter as the blackbirds on the old elm at 
the foot of the garden. 

Miss Patty, as brisk as anybody, was not the 
slightest restraint upon their fun, for all loved the 
123 


124 


TRANSPLANTED. 


blessed old maid, whose heart could never grow old, 
however decrepit her poor body might become. 
Peaceful happy days, which drew them together as 
months of more formal intercourse could not have 
done ! Bessie had the more leisure, because her 
father was off on one of his frequent geological sur- 
veys in Vermont. Bert also had little to do, because 
the ladies at the Leavenworth house were mysteriously 
busy in a way that hinted strongly of a wedding some 
day. So the two were free to do pretty much as they 
liked, which seemed to be mostly running to and from 
the cottage. 

Before it seemed possible, June was nearly gone, 
bringing the closing exercises of the school-year. 
Jacqueline had been steadily making friends in her 
classes, for, besides being a good scholar, she had 
pleasant ways and real worth ; and the old whispered 
stories of her obscure origin were being half-for- 
gotten, while her friendship with Bert and Bessie 
helped to put her on an almost equal footing with the 
most favored of her schoolmates. 

Of course there were a few who made “ society,” 
dressing, party-giving, etc., the chief end of life — 
among whom was Lou Talbot. With these Jacque- 
line could have little in common, for she had neither 
time nor inclination for such gayeties. But the teach- 
ers and the best of the scholars all liked the girl who 


A PICNIC , AND BERT’S STORY. 125 

had made more progress in one year than many of 
them in four. 

When, therefore, a picnic was talked up at school, 
to take place the Saturday following Friday’s closing 
exercises, there was no question of Jacqueline’s 
being tolerated : she was, indeed, both consulted and 
deferred to in all the arrangements. 

“ It will be delightful ! ” she cried enthusiastically, 
as the little group she was with lingered a moment 
on the corner. “ But I may not be able to go. Miss 
Patty couldn’t attend, and she may not like to spare 
me.” 

“ Oh, you must ! ” came in chorus. “ She can’t be 
so cruel ! It’ll be a perfect shame if you can’t go ! ” 

“ No, no, not a shame, only a disappointment ; and 
dear Miss Patty couldn’t be cruel to save her life ! ” 
laughed Jacqueline, as she went on ; but she couldn’t 
help thinking of the difference between her assured 
place and home now, and the lonely strangeness of 
that afternoon at Bessie’s, only six months ago. 

Her eyes grew moist with happy tears, while a 
flood of sweet gratitude filled her heart. 

“ I thank thee, Lord ! ” she said, softly, with bowed 
head, and turned into the cottage-gate with a step as 
light as air. 

There were voices in the rear garden, and a peal of 
laughter greeted her as she hurried around the house, 


126 


TRANSPLANTED. 


to find Bert ridiculously arrayed in the green sun- 
bonnet, perched on a ladder tying up vines, while 
Bessie, between her fits of merriment, was kept busy 
handing up tacks and strings at his need. 

« I’m so anxious about my complexion,” he said 
gravely, with Lou Talbot’s own air, turning his berry- 
brown face upon her, “ my skin is very delicate ! ” 

“ Then you can never go to the picnic ! ” laughed 
Jacqueline. 

“ Picnic ! Who says picnic to me ? ” springing 
from the ladder, and sending the bonnet flying 
through the air, nearly frightening a sedate old 
scratching hen into fits as he did so. 

“ I do ! ” said Jacqueline, and was soon eagerly 
telling of the picnic plans, while Miss Patty, who 
had come to the window to listen, at once began ar- 
ranging for her “ child’s ” going. 

But Bert put them all aside. 

“ I’ve a cuter scheme than that ! ” he cried, gayly. 
“ I shall call for Aunt Patty at 8:30, in my T-cart, 
and take her to spend the day with grandma, — you 
don’t know how many times she has ‘ wearied ’ for you 
lately, aunty (as Ginie says) ; then, Jaca, by nine we 
can be ready to join the procession to Oak Grove.” 

“ Still in the T-cart, Bert ? ” 

“ The same, my lady. I don’t say any thing to you, 
Bess, because you’re so independent with your phae- 


A PICNIC , AND BERT’S STORY. 


127 


ton. Now, don’t anybody upset all this, for it’s got 
to be did ! ” 

“ But Miss Arlene ? ” interposed Jacqueline. 

“Wait, and I’ll whisper a secret ! Don’t tell any- 
body but your best friends, and tell them not to tell ! 
She’s expecting a certain — somebody, out from the 
city to spend Sunday, and I doubt if she’ll go.” 

“ Ah ! ahem ! ” laughed the girls, Bessie adding, 
“ I was going to ask her to ride with me, but that 
settles it ! ” 

“ Why don’t you take that pretty Miss What’s-her- 
name, that’s visiting the Gilberts ? ” 

“ Mamie Everett ? I will ! She’s just lovely ! ” 
And the girls were soon deep in discussions as to what 
each should take and wear. 

Saturday dawned as fair as the first of July should 
be, and Miss Patty, in her best black silk, a little 
flurried for fear she had forgotten something, rode 
promptly away at the appointed hour ; the gay little 
cart having scarcely disappeared around the corner 
when a roomy carriage, driven by Charlie Talbot, 
drew up before the gate where Jacqueline still stood, 
ready to start. 

His sister sat beside him, and with a gay “ Good- 
morning,” she said, cordially, — 

“Come, Jacqueline, it’ll be ever so much nicer to 
go to the grove in a covered carriage, than to depend 


128 


TRANSPLANTED. 


on those big, crowded wagons that start from the 
school-house ; don’t you think so ? ” 

“ Far pleasanter.” 

“ Then jump right in with us, and we’ll drive 
around for Bessie Bandall.” 

“ Oh, thank you ! ” said Jacqueline, quite astonished 
at this unusual courtesy, “ but Bert has asked me. 
He’s just taking Miss Patty over there to spend the 
day, and is coming back after me.” 

“ Beally ! How delightful ! Then we’ll go for 
Bessie and Fannie Gilbert, Charlie.” 

“That is nice, for I think Bessie has asked her 
cousin, Mamie Everett, and she’ll be glad to know 
that Fannie has a pleasant way of going, too.” 

“ Oh, certainly ; well, we’ll find somebody glad to 
go, I’m sure,” said Lou, looking much annoyed, and 
they drove away leaving Jacqueline rather grateful 
and a good deal mystified ; while Lou was thoroughly 
indignant that this effort to win back Bessie’s waning 
friendship, by “descending to that girl she was so 
insanely fond of,” had fallen flat. 

They had not turned the corner, when Bert ap- 
peared, and soon Jacqueline, rosy with pleasure, 
found herself by his side in the teetering cart, bowl- 
ing rapidly over the smooth country roads. 

It was fortunate the grove was a large one, this 
being one of those affairs where old and young, rich 


A PICNIC , AND BERT’S STORY. 


129 


and poor were all welcome, provided they brought 
well-filled baskets. Bert and Jacqueline were soon 
surrounded by a group composed of their special 
friends, and the latter could not help seeing that the 
mode of her coming had given her an added impor- 
tance in many eyes ; but the girl had grown wiser 
with her varied experiences, and only smiled quietly 
at what once would have made her retire into her 
shell of pride and diffidence. 

She liked the young girl Bessie had brought very 
much, having met her once or twice before. She 
was older even than Bessie, being fully seventeen, but 
bright, child-like, and winsome. 

The gathering was so large that people naturally 
separated into groups of special cronies, each making 
choice of some place to spread their own table apart 
from others. Jacqueline gathered with a merry 
dozen, in a part of the grove overlooking the lake, 
where the boys had fashioned a rough table by means 
of the side boards of a wagon, and two stumps of 
about equal height. Over this the snowy cloth was 
spread, and the contents of the various baskets set 
out in tempting array. 

Jacqueline couldn’t help being glad to see that even 
Bessie’s basket contained no daintier collection than 
her own, while the few bits of quaint old china she 
had brought were greatly admired. 


130 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Bert, with the help of the five other boys, fash- 
ioned an ingenious fire-place out of a flat stone and 
two round ones. Over this they hung the coffee-pot, 
gypsy fashion, regardless of the smoke which nearly 
blinded them. 

Jacqueline, better skilled in housewifely accom- 
plishments than the other girls, made the coffee, and, 
when it was finally poured into the pretty cups, over 
the rich cream and loaf sugar, they all declared that 
such coffee had never been seen before, and probably 
would never appear again ! v 

After dinner they made the air ring with laughter, 
as they asked personal conundrums, and told riddles 
and stories ; while some, more enterprising, went out 
on the lake, or played croquet with a set they had 
brought, in sublime disregard of stumps, stones, un- 
even ground, and underbrush. 

They ate their supper in much the same fashion, 
lingering over it to tell stories, which grew quiet, 
and even sad, in that hushed twilight hour, and then, 
in the cool of the long day, gathered up the frag- 
ments, and started homeward. 

“ Well, Jaca, has it been a nice day ? ” asked Bert, 
heartily, as they drove leisurely through the purple 
shadows. 

“ Very nice ; and I thank you, Bert, for making it 
so pleasant.” 


A PICNIC, AND BERT’S STORY. 131 


“ Oh, bosh! I didn’t do a thing; just enjoyed my- 
self ! Did you hear that story Mamie Everett told, 
about the poor fellow in the hospital ? ” 

“ Partly ; wasn’t it sad ? ” 

“ Horribly ! I’ve thought of it ever since ; only a 
little older than I, and maimed for life ! No home, 
no friends, and a prison to look forward to, if he gets 
well ! ” 

Jacqueline shuddered. 

“ And I was in a sort of prison, too, a year ago ! ” 
she thought, as she asked aloud, — 

“ How did Miss Everett happen to tell it ? I didn’t 
hear the first part.” 

“ Let me see ; they were talking about the wild 
flowers the girls brought in, and then she told about 
the flower mission she belongs to, and how they visit 
the hospitals once a week ; then she told the story of 
this boy she saw on her rounds.” 

“Yes,” said Jacqueline, remembering what she 
knew of flower-day when she was herself in a hos- 
pital. 

“ Didn’t she say he was shot while burglarizing a 
house ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes, there were two of them ; the other got off, 
but the owner of the house shot at this one, just as he 
was getting out of an upper window on to a ladder, 
and he fell clear to the ground. It’s a wonder it 


132 


TRANSPLANTED. 


didn’t kill him outright, but it only smashed him up 
pretty thoroughly. She says that, though he suffers 
intensely, he is very patient, and really, to look at his 
face, refined by sickness, you’d not think him so bad. 
Then, too, he obstinately refuses to turn State’s evi- 
dence against his mate, and so secure a shorter sen- 
tence, and I can’t help liking him for that.” 

“You seem strangely interested,” said Jacqueline, 
looking at him, curiously. 

“ Well, I am,” laughing a little. “ There’s some- 
thing so pitiful about the whole thing ; and then, 
somehow, I can’t help admiring pluck, even if 
it is in a burglar. He is just my age, too ; only 
think ! ” 

Bert was quiet for awhile, and Jacqueline’s eyes 
were wet ; after a little he went on in the hushed 
tone his voice had dropped into. 

“ Perhaps I feel differently because I had such a 
father.” 

Jacqueline looked up, surprised. 

“ Such a father ; how ? ” and stopped, half fright- 
ened at herself. 

“Well, at least, he was a very bad man. He drank, 
and gambled, and broke my mother’s heart. Yes, and 
grandpa’s, and grandma’s, too ! Then he was killed 
in a dreadful brawl, and I’m afraid nobody 
sorry.” 


was 


A PICNIC , AND BERT'S STORY. 


133 


Jacqueline made an inarticulate murmur of surprise 
and dismay, and Bert, as if impelled by something 
outside of himself, went on, — 

“ I don’t know why I tell you ; we never mention 
him at home ; but, somehow, you’ve never seemed 
like a stranger to me. As to my mother, she was as 
good, and gentle, and lovely, as he was wicked. I 
don’t know how she came to marry such a wretch, I’m 
sure, but he was of good family, and probably ap- 
peared all right, at first. He took her south, and I 
was born in Macon, Georgia. But we never stayed long 
in one place. He had inherited some property, and 
they lived in good style till that was gone, I’ve heard, 
and then trouble commenced. When I was only two 
he suddenly went away, and left her at a hotel with 
hardly a bit of money, and she had to write to grand- 
pa, who came and brought us home. We had been 
here about three months when he turned up again, 
and told a dreadfully sad story about having been 
sick for weeks, and then not knowing where to look 
for her, and a lot of rubbish ! Somehow, or other, 
he’d made money, though, and wanted her to live 
with him again, but I suppose grandpa and grandma 
actually fought against it! Aunt Arl was about 
seven then, and she can remember those stormy 
scenes yet. But I suppose mother loved him, and 
she thought it was her duty to go with him. She used 


134 


TRANSPLANTED . 


to say, ‘ I married for better and for worse ! ’ and so 
they had to let her go. But they kept me, and I’ve 
never seen my mother since. Indeed, if it wasn’t for 
her portrait in grandma’s room, I should not remem- 
ber how she looked.” 

“ Did she die soon ? ” whispered Jacqueline, in- 
tensely interested. 

“Not for some time. A year after she left, a little 
girl was born — my little sister ” — his voice choked 
a minute. “ You don’t know how I’ve always wanted 
a sister, Jaca ! But after that her letters grew far- 
ther apart and then suddenly stopped. I suppose 
they had got back into the old dreadful life and she 
couldn’t bear to write. She never even mentioned, 
the baby’s name (if it had one), but we thought prob- 
ably she would give it her own — Celia. 

“ After waiting some time, grandpa grew so uneasy 
that he started off to find her, going, of course, to the 
last address she had given him ; but found, to his sur- 
prise, that there had been no people of our name there, 
though there had been a man, wife, and baby, of 
another name, I can’t remember what. He felt 
sure, however, that they were our people, and that 
mother had had to give up writing because she was 
too proud to let him know the way they were living — 
under a false name, and all that. But they’d left there 
suddenly, without paying in full for their board, and 


A PICNIC , AND BERT’S STORY. 


135 


the woman who kept the house was very cross and 
surly about it. 

“ When asked if she knew what the lady’s and child’s 
given names were, she gave my mother’s, Celia, but 
said she couldn’t remember the baby’s ; ’twas some 
heathenish French name, and they never used it — 
always called her Blossom or Baby. 

“ So that made grandpa pretty sure, and he tried 
his best to find them, feeling afraid my father had 
committed some crime ; but he couldn’t. All the 
trouble and suspense nearly drove them crazy, and 
turned their hair white, too. Grandpa had never 
been very strong and it broke him all up, so that he 
died in less than a year. I wonder it didn’t kill 
grandma too ; but I suppose there are some people 
who can’t die, no matter how much they want to ! 
At any rate, she didn’t, though it made an old woman 
of her. 

“ Grandpa hadn’t been buried a month when Mr. 
Randall saw in a city paper that Albert B. Amory, 
alias two or three other names, had just been shot in 
a gambling den, and was dying in the hospital. So 
he went there, and sure enough it was that man — I 
hate to call him father ! He was almost gone, but 
when Mr. Randall tried to rouse him, and- find out 
about his wife and child, he seemed to understand, 
and tried to speak. 


136 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ He managed to say, ‘ Dead — the baby/ and then 
dropped back quite gone, and Mr. Randall did not 
know whether only the baby was dead, or both. 
Then he telegraphed home, and grandma went on, 
and they advertised and hunted every-where, and 
traced them from one place to another, till they, at 
last, came to a stand-still ; all they could learn was 
from a woman who declared she had seen my mother 
— grandma had her photograph — in a neighboring 
tenement. Think of my mother living in a tenement ! 
When they went there no one seemed to know any 
thing about her, and so the search ended. Grandma 
felt convinced that both had died, and we always 
think of them as lying together in some nameless 
grave.’’ 

They were both silent as Bert drew rein before the 
cottage-gate, but as he helped Jacqueline from the 
cart, she said earnestly, — 

“ Good-night, Bert. I’ll keep your story to myself, 
but I’m glad you told it. We are both orphans, and 
though you have a beautiful home with your own 
relatives, I can’t help feeling there are some things 
similar in our lives which should make us good 
friends, always.” 

“ Which we will be ! ” said Bert, shaking her out- 
stretched hand warmly, but evidently too full of emo- 
tion to say much. “ I’ll bring Miss Patty soon ; 


A PICNIC, AND BERT’S STORY. 


137 


good-night ! ” and he drove quietly away, while 
J acqueline went up the narrow path, and waited in the 
lonely, dusky porch, thinking over the strange story 
she had heard, her heart yearning over that poor 
mother and child, and over Bert who had lost so much 
out of his life. 

Miss Patty came home in as quiet a mood as Jacque- 
line’s, for the visit with her old friend had revived 
many sad memories, and the two soon separated to 
go to their rooms, each to lie awake under the pres- 
sure of life’s sad realities for a part, at least, of the 
beautiful, moon-lighted, clover-scented night. 


CHAPTER X. 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 

“ Seems to me we’re growing very gay ! ” laughed 
Miss Patty, a few mornings later, as Bessie drove 
away from the gate, leaving an invitation for the 
lady and her charge to take tea at her home the next 
day. 

“ Aren’t we ! ” cried Jacqueline, merrily ; “ and 
what a nice party it will be. J ust the people we like 
best.” 

“ Yes,” said Miss Patty. “ And now you may leave 
the work, and go straight to your dress ; you’ll want 
it to wear.” 

“ Oh, may I ? You’re very good, Miss Patty, and 
I think I can get it done. The waist is all finished 
except the button-holes, and the skirt breadths are 
sewed up.” 

"Of course; and Pll help you. Just find my 
glasses dear, and see if I left my thimble in the con- 
servatory won’t you ? ” 

Jacqueline, having fairly settled the dear old lady, 
went at her sewing with a vim, for a new dress was a 

138 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 139 


great affair to her, being in this instance, only a mus- 
lin with a clear white ground, and tiny sprays of pink 
scattered over it ; but it was fresh and full, and when 
she was dressed in it next day, Miss Patty looked her 
over with great satisfaction. 

“ Will I do ? ” asked Jacqueline, archly. 

“ Yes, my child ; if you behave as well as you look 
you’ll be all right,” which, by the way, was a favorite 
axiom of the old lady’s. 

Bessie came for her in the phaeton, and Jacqueline, 
after gently helping her in, walked along after, 
greatly enjoying the fresh, sweet air, and the rich 
bloom in the deep pretty gardens she was passing. 
A clear boyish whistle behind her made her look 
around, to see Bert coming after with long strides. 

(m Gracious ! how fine ! ” he said, holding up an 
imaginary eyeglass and looking her over, “ is that a 
new creation, Miss Silsby ? ” indicating the pretty 
muslin. 

“ Rather,” laughed J acqueline, “ I’m afraid the 
basting threads are hardly out yet ; do you see any ? ” 

“ Guess not, what are they, anyhow ? these, for 
instance ? ” pointing to the rows of shirring at the 
neck of her full waist. 

“ Not exactly. Are you on your way to Bessie’s, 
now ? ” 

“ Of course ; who else is going to be there ? ” 


140 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Only two or three — the Gilberts and Mamie 
Everett, — Bessie’s taken a great fancy to that pretty 
girl from the city, — besides ourselves; that is,” — 
blushing a little at finding she had identified herself 
with the Leavenworth family, — “I should say, 
besides your family, and Miss Patty, and myself.” 

“ To — be — certainly ! I’m glad to see you so pre- 
cise. It’s nice Miss Patty could come, but grandma 
can’t, I’m sorry to say ; it’s one of her bad days. 
But Aunt Arl’s coming. She must have something 
to distract her mind, now George Harper’s gone back 
to town.” 

“ What a fine young man he is !” said Jacqueline, 
admiringly, “anybody would know he was good, just 
to look at him.” 

“ Yes, I believe they would. Then, it’s a comfort 
to know all about them, as we do ; the Harpers used 
to live close by us, before they removed to the city, 
and I think he and Aunt Arl have always liked each 
other. He’s such an honorable fellow, too. Mr. 
Randall says his word is as good as his bond among 
business men.” 

“I should know it,” said Jacqueline. “Ah! here 
we are ; don’t they make a picture, though ? ” 

She pointed to the Randalls’ lawn, where, in two 
deep wicker chairs placed on a great crimson rug, sat 
Miss Patty and Mr. Randall, in pleasant conversation ; 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 141 


while, opposite them, Arlene and Bessie lounged in a 
hammock, lightly swinging it to and fro with the tips 
of their daintily-clad toes. 

The Gilberts had not yet arrived. Our new-comers 
were made welcome, Bessie springing out so quickly 
at sight of them as to almost upset Arlene ; and Mr. 
Randall rising courteously from his chair, only to fix 
upon Jacqueline again that long, strange look he 
seemed to reserve for her. 

Then the young people wandered away into the 
flower-garden further back, and, reseating himself, 
Mr. Randall said, abruptly, — 

“Miss Patty, has it never occurred to you that 
your protegee looks very much like some one we used 
to know ? ” 

“ What ? Why, no — you don’t mean ? ” — and she 
looked at him, half-startled, half-comprehending. 

“ Yes, I do ! This Jacqueline Silsby strikingly re- 
sembles Celia Leavenworth, as she was when a girl.” 

“ Do you think so ? Yes, Mr. Randall, I’ve thought 
of it myself. It’s probably because she tries to copy 
Arlene, and you know she too resembles her older 
sister. I didn’t suppose any one else had noticed it.” 

Mr. Randall shook his head. 

“ One can’t copy the color of another’s eyes and hair, 
my friend; and those brown eyes changing so easily to 
black in any excitement, and that dark hair with the 


142 


TRANSPLANTED. 


hint of red when the sun lights it up, are Celia’s own ! 
I noticed it the first time I met her. There’s another 
queer thing, Miss Patty ; Silsby was that man’s last 
alias ! ” 

“ No ! you don’t say so ! ” and the lavender bow on 
Miss Patty’s head-dress fairly quivered with excite- 
ment. 

“ Of course it’s common enough to meet people of 
the same name, but somehow I’ve felt from the first 
that that child did not die. There was really no 
evidence of death, only that disjointed speech, which 
might have been explained in some other way, had it 
been concluded ; and from Amory’s manner, I now 
feel sure he had something to tell me about the baby, 
while the word ‘ dead ’ referred only to Celia. Still, 
it would be almost too romantic ! ” he added, with a 
smile. “ Bessie always calls me an old dreamer, and 
I believe she’s right. But tell me all you know about 
this girl, anyhow,” and Miss Patty gave the meager 
particulars she had heard. 

She had scarcely finished when the Gilberts arrived, 
which brought the young folks back from the garden, 
and made the conversation light and general, until tea 
was announced. As they left the table, Mr. Bandall 
said, quietly, — 

“ Miss Jacqueline, Bert tells me you are much in- 
terested in sketching, water-coloring, etc.” 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS . 143 


“Yes, sir,” she answered, half shyly, “but I know 
very little about it.” 

“Indeed! I should have supposed from his talk 
that you were quite proficient. Come with me, and 
I’ll show you some water-color sketches I brought 
from Paris a few years ago, they may interest you ; 
that is, if the rest will excuse us a minute.” 

“Yes, papa,” laughed Bessie, “but I’ll warn you, 
Jacqueline, that he’s liable to go off in a brown study 
at any instant, and bury himself in a book so deep he 
won’t even hear if you speak ! ” 

“ I can at least leave him buried, and come back to 
you, then,” said the girl merrily, and followed him 
into a small room next the library, which she had 
never seen before. 

“This is my special den,” he said laughingly, as 
he cleared an easy-chair of books and papers, sweep- 
ing aside more of the same sort from the large table 
which nearly filled the room : “ it is the domestic rock 
upon which Bessie and I always split, for she is con- 
stantly insisting upon cleaning it up, while I am kept 
busy making excuses to ward her off! Mrs. Feegles 
gave it up as a bad job long ago, but Bessie is as per- 
sistent as a rat-terrier, when she makes up her mind 
to any thing ! ” 

Then he went to a cabinet, and brought from a deep 
under drawer a pile of large sketches, in both water 


144 


TRANSPLANTED. 


colors and sepia. As lie showed them to her, gently 
explaining, and deftly calling her attention to special 
points, he gradually brought the conversation around 
to herself, and began cautiously questioning her of 
her early life ; while she, little suspecting his 
motive, answered as freely as it was in her reticent 
nature to do. 

“You say,” he asked, “that you can remember 
your mother ? ” 

“Hardly,” said Jacqueline, thoughtfully; “it is 
more like a dream, or a picture, just a faint one, of a 
pale face on a pillow, that kissed me, and a memory of 
some very solemn words, ‘ Oh, my darling, I must leave 
you to God/ I think those words came back to me 
in dreams, or I shouldn’t remember them so.” 

“ Then you think you must have been very young 
when she died ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And you don’t remember your father ? ” 

“ Not at all, sir.” 

“And then you lived with this woman you call 
Ma’am ; didn’t you know her real name ? ” 

“Yes, I believe it was Grundy, but I never heard 
it but once or twice ; they all called her Ma’am.” 

“ And that is all you can tell me.” 

“ Yes, sir: at least — there was one thing, but I don’t 
know as it was any thing either : one day I overheard 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 145 

a talk between Ma’am and one of her cronies which I 
think referred to me, judging by the looks they gave 
me. She said, ‘I shall keep the things, and some- 
time they may be money in my pocket ; they was her 
mother’s, and she wa’n’t no common woman, I can tell 
you — she came of high-toned folks.’ That was all, 
and I never knew what things she meant.” 

He looked at her, and seemed musing deeply. 

“ Strange ! ” he muttered. “ Every thing seems to 
fit together. Now,” resuming a business tone, “just 
give me the address of this house in the city where 
you lived, please.” 

“No. 13 Gem Street, sir.” 

“Yes.” He opened a drawer in the table, and 
searching amid its confusion, found a small memoran- 
dum-book, in which he wrote it down. 

“You are sure of this address, Jacqueline.” 

“Yes, sir, quite.” 

“ All right ; pardon my inquisitiveness ! Bessie 
tells me I delight in questions — ought to have lived 
during the Spanish Inquisition ! Well, shall we go 
back to the others now ? ” and wondering much, but 
not daring to ask a question herself, Jacqueline fol- 
lowed, thinking him the most eccentric gentleman she 
had ever seen. 

The rest of the evening passed rapidly away, en- 
livened by music and pleasant instructive talk on art, 


146 


TRANSPLANTED. 


books, and current events. Something reminded Bert 
of Mamie Everett’s story about the boy in the hospi- 
tal, and that was again talked over. Jacqueline, for 
once forgetting her shyness, told how it had always 
been a dream of hers that some day she might be 
rich enough to carry flowers to the hospitals too. 

“Nobody knows,” she added, with a quiver of feel- 
ing in her voice, “nobody knows how much those 
flowers can do for one, unless they’ve been there ! ” 

“ And why should you need to be rich to carry out 
so simple a dream as that ? ” said Mr. Kandall 
briskly. “ Here are we, within an hour’s ride of the 
hospitals ; there are Miss Patty’s greenhouse and 
garden all ablaze with blossoms, — why not make up a 
party and go to the city, just once, to make somebody 
else happy as well as ourselves ? Come, that isn’t a 
bad idea, Miss Patty, eh ? Miss Mamie here shall 
be our guide ; you, our florist ; and I claim the privi- 
lege of entertaining the whole party, for after our 
efforts we’ll need a substantial dinner, you know ! 
Let’s see, we can eat our lunch at home, take the 
12 : 20 train, and return on the 9 : 15 at night — what 
do you all say ? ” 

There were only one or two disclaimers, and they 
were over-ruled, so the original plan was finally agreed 
upon, the next day but one being selected, if pleasant. 

“ I don’t know about taking my cane and rheuma- 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 147 


tism around on such a trip ; they might nab me up 
and put me into one of their beds,” said Miss Patty 
quaintly, “but Jacqueline shall go, anyhow.” 

“ Oh, of course,” said Mr. Randall, with something 
significant in his tone, “this is really Miss Jacque- 
line’s party, you know ” (and the young girl blushed 
rosy-red at the honors which seemed quite overwhelm- 
ing Jier) ; “ but we can’t go without you, Miss Patty, 
and I insist that you make a special effort to be free 
from rheumatism, that day ! ” Which she laughingly 
agreed to do. 

Indeed, when the day came Miss Patty did feel 
unusually well ; so, after a dozen minds on the sub- 
ject, finally decided to go, just in time to get into her 
black silk and best bonnet. Mr. Randall, ever 
thoughtful, sent his man around with the phaeton 
after her, and the baskets and boxes of flowers, and 
when Jacqueline hurried into the pretty station-house 
a little later, all were there, except the elder Gilberts. 

“ Father will meet us in the city,” explained Fannie, 
“and mother, I’m sorry to say, has a severe sick 
headache, so can’t come. I felt guilty to leave her ; 
but she insisted, saying there was nothing to do 
but wear it out in perfect darkness and quiet, so 
I came.” 

It was a merry party. Bert, as he said, tried to 
make himself as “ numerous ” as possible among the 


148 


TRANSPLANTED. 


five girls, while the elders visited quietly by them- 
selves, a little apart. Jacqueline was greatly excited, 
and her cheeks were crimson under her simple but 
becoming hat. What was the most every-day occur- 
rence to the rest, was to her a great event ; and she 
almost begrudged her attention to the laughter and 
chat inside the car, so anxious was she to watch the 
changing landscape without. The ride was all too 
short, she thought, and a strange feeling of dread and 
dismay came over her, as they steamed into the great, 
gloomy depot, and came to a stop. 

This was the city where she had known only 
squalor, suffering, and crime ; what might not meet 
her in its restless, teeming streets ? 

She shrank close to Miss Patty’s side, and eagerly 
offered her arm to assist her, feeling glad to be near 
such a true friend ; but Mr. Eandall had just then 
offered his stronger arm, and Bert’s gay voice rang 
out, — 

“ Come on, Jaca ! these girls know the way, so I’ll 
look after you,” and together they threaded their 
course through the hurrying crowds, and among the 
vociferous, though well-guarded, hackmen, till the 
party, now completed by Mr. Gilbert’s appearance, 
had been comfortably disposed in two carriages. 

I shall not give you a detailed description of their 
visits, for they went to three large hospitals, bringing 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 149 


a sense of cheer and comfort in their very presence, 
and leaving many a sufferer with something pleasant 
to think of in kind, helpful words, as well as to look 
at in beautiful blossoms. I will speak only of their 
visit to the third, which they had purposely left till 
the last, rather hurrying over their other visits that 
this might be a more leisurely one, as it was here 
that Mamie Everett’s burglar, as they facetiously 
called him, lay so dangerously ill. 

The flowers, being packed in dampened cotton or 
moss, were still perfectly fresh, and they had been 
careful to reserve one choice box untouched. After 
lingering a little here and there, Mamie asked to be 
shown to Bed No. 16, Ward 5, and their conductor, 
after a little demur, led them forward. 

“He is very bad,” he said, in answer to her ques- 
tion, “ and sometimes out of his head ; calls out for 
1 Jack’ now and then, his pal, I suppose, — and begs 
somebody not to hurt her ; he means him, but gets 
confused, you see; but when he is* himself he keeps 
his lips as close as you please, can’t get a word out of 
him.” 

They went down the clean room, not so large as 
the convalescent ward, or so noisy, and stopped 
quietly by a bed. Upon the pillow lay a wasted, 
white, boyish face, with closed eyes. Jacqueline was 
somewhat behind the rest, with Arlene, and just as 


150 


transplanted. 


the group parted to let them also step forward, his 
eyes opened, and turned full upon her. 

“Jack ! ” he cried brightly, with a glad look, “why, 
Jack ! ” and Jacqueline, in turn, gave a suppressed 
cry,— 

“ It is Nick ! Oh ! it is Nick !” 

All looked from one to the other in astonishment, — 
only Mr. Kandall and Miss Patty partially under- 
standing, — as the young girl stepped forward, and 
laid her gloved hand in the claw-like one, so eagerly 
stretched over the clean white spread. 

“I wanted to tell ye, Jack,” he began gaspingly, 
his voice growing clearer, however, as he went on, 
excitement doubtless giving him momentary strength. 
“ I felt bad over thet — thet whipping-scrape, ye 
know. I don’t b’lieve I’d ’a’ done it ; no, I don’t — 
not even fur him ! An’ sence I’ve bin here, I’ve bin 
thinkin’ lots o’ wot ye said thet day ; thet you’d 
die first, ye know, ’fore you’d tell ! Thet was gritty, 
Jack, awful gritty! Ye alius was gritty, but you’re 
good too, I kin see thet — an’ fine, an’ sweet, like a 
lady. Wot is it, Jack ? tell me wot ’tis makes — ye 
— so” — 

He stopped, exhausted, and in a low voice, often 
broken by tears, Jacqueline went back to the day of 
her arrest, and in as few words as possible told the 
story of her gradual struggle upwards, out of the mire 


A FLOW Eli MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 151 


of sin and ignorance, into the sunlight of hope, faith, 
and happiness. The group had considerately moved 
on almost immediately, and Nick listened eagerly to 
the low, pleasant voice, sometimes searching her face 
with eager eyes, again closing them in very weakness ; 
but always clinging to the little hand that was the 
only friend’s hand that he had pressed since his cruel 
hurt. Only once he interrupted her. When she lightly 
touched upon their encounter in the woods, and ex- 
plained how impossible she felt it to betray her best 
friends, he murmured, — 

“ ’Twas mean, mean, mean ! But I couldn’t ’a’ done 
it, Jack ; I couldn’t never ’a’ done it ! ” 

She had barely finished, when she saw Mr. Randall 
coming down the room, and she had only time to 
whisper, — 

“ Just trust in our Saviour, Nick ; He died for you 
and me, just as well as for the rich and great ; and 
He’ll certainly listen to you and help you, just as 
He did to me ! ” when the gentleman reached her 
side. 

“ Jacqueline, the nurse thinks you ought not to 
stay longer with your — acquaintance,” (he could not 
say friend, knowing what this boy was), “as he is 
too weak to bear so much excitement. Will you 
come, now ? ” 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Randall, I want to tell you, this is 


152 


TRANSPLANTED. 


one of the boys I told you of, who used to live at 
Ma’am’s, and was nearly always good to me; his 
name is Nick.” 

Mr. Randall took the boy’s hand, and said, 
kindly, — 

“ Nick, I’m glad to meet you.” 

“ He’s tired of his old life, and I’ve been telling 
him how I’ve been helped along.” 

“ That’s right — that’s right ! Nick, I’d like to 
have a little talk with you myself, to-morrow, if 
you’re strong enough ; and here, Jacqueline, are the 
flowers you came near forgetting.” 

“ Why, surely ! ” taking the box from his hands, 
eagerly. “ See, Nick ! we brought these on purpose 
for you,” and she uncovered the fragrant things 
before his admiring eyes. 

Then leaving them on the little stand where he 
could see them, they bade him a kind good-by, and 
turned away, going in silence back to the friends 
who were awaiting them in the reception-room. 

Miss Patty had explained something of the situa- 
tion, so that all received Jacqueline with tenderness, 
and appeared not to notice her wet eyes and flushed 
cheeks. 

“ Now,” said Bert, as soon as they were outside 
again, “ there’s just one thing that can remove these 
harrowing scenes from our minds, and restore our 


A FLOWER MISSION AND ITS RESULTS. 153 

natural equanimity, which is — dinner ! Ho ! for the 
French restaurant ! 99 

All were glad to laugh and let lighter feelings 
replace the sadness that had crept over them, 
and Mr. Randall, drawing out his watch, said 
briskly, — 

“ A good idea ! it is almost six, and we will go at 
once.” 

Bert, who, boy-like, hated too much solemnity, was 
bound there should be no more this afternoon, so 
made a special effort to be gay and entertaining, in 
which he was ably seconded by Bessie. Soon Jacque- 
line, seated with the rest around one of the cozy 
private tables of the elegant restaurant, was laughing 
merrily at their jokes, quite her own self again, 
though an occasional thought of Nick would send a 
soft shadow over her face. 

Then came the swift pleasant ride in the late dusk 
of the summer evening, and the delightful sense of 
home-coming, which was still novel to Jacqueline, as 
they rode up to the gate in one of the depot carriages. 
Jacqueline cast a loving glance over the pretty, 
shadowy cottage, then turned to help Miss Patty out, 
with unusual tenderness. 

“ That’s right, dear; now my cane, please; well, 
child, we’re home again at last.” 

“ And oh ! Miss Patty, how good it does seem ! ” 


154 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Doesn’t it ? And it’s very pleasant to have one 
appreciate a home as you do, my child.” 

“ I don’t see how I could help it, Miss Patty. The 
key, please ; I’ll open the door. Don’t try to move 
about in the dark, I left a lamp and matches handy. 
Ah ! here they are,” and soon the two were cozily 
seated in the parlor, while Jacqueline recounted her 
talk with Nick. 

“Well, well,” said Miss Patty at last, “people 
sometimes laugh at the idea of a Providence in every 
thing, but I don’t know how they can. It’s mighty 
strange, if we only blunder into things, how often 
good is made to come out of evil, in spite of us. I 
tell you, child, there’s a Leader somewhere. But, 
bless us, it’s after eleven ; nice hours for sober folks 
like us. Wind the clock, dear, and bring the Bibles ; 
we’ll have prayers and go straight to bed.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 

Three days had passed when Jacqueline, who was 
perched on a step-ladder tying up some vines about 
the porch, heard the gate click behind her, and look- 
ing over her shoulder, was surprised to see Mr. Ran- 
dall coming up the path. She hastily descended, 
greeting him with a blush of embarrassment that was 
very becoming. 

“ Hard at work, eh ? ” he said pleasantly. “ Is the 
good lady within ? ” 

“Yes, sir. I think she is making up a design in 
the greenhouse. I’ll call her.” 

“No, no indeed. Let me go to her. I like to 
watch her at her pretty work,” and, as he evidently 
knew the way, Jacqueline went back to her own 
occupation, and left him to find it. 

She was deep in her own thoughts, and had almost 
forgotten him, when she heard Miss Patty’s call, 
“Jacqueline! Jacqueline!” and in a moment later 
that lady appeared in the doorway, looking unusually 
excited, her glasses pushed up on her forehead, and 
her cap awry. 


155 


156 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Come, child, we want you ! ” she said, in an 
odd tone, and Jacqueline, wondering a little, 
quickly descended, and followed her to the dining- 
room. 

Mr. Kandall was sitting by the table looking rather 
mysterious, and Jacqueline actually began to tremble 
as she seated herself near. What had she done ? 
What could it mean ? Oh ! could it be that for some 
reason she must go back to the school ? 

“ Jacqueline,” he said, “ I have something to tell 
you, which I have suspected for some time, but have 
only been sure of since yesterday.” 

He stopped, and Jacqueline feeling in duty bound, 
nodded, though she was growing sick at heart. Yes, 
she must go back to the school. He had just learned 
of her encounter with Mike and Nick in the woods, 
and for some reason was displeased — perhaps he 
thought, with such acquaintances as these, she was a 
dangerous person to have among them. 

“ O Father, help me to bear it ! ” she prayed in- 
wardly, and listened for his next words. 

“ You probably have never heard the story of Bert’s 
mother, Mrs. Amory ? ” he asked, and for a moment 
she was too dazed by the sudden transition from what 
was uppermost in her mind to make any reply ; while, 
as if not expecting any, he went on, — 

“ I’ll give you the outlines of her story,” and pro- 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


157 


ceeded to relate, in substance, the same tale Bert had 
told her, only with fuller details. 

“Now,” he said, with a keen look, “I have found 
that this little girl did not die, though her mother 
did ; but lived, and was retained by a woman who 
brought her, almost an infant, from the southern 
town where her father and mother died to our own 
city, where the child was living, up to a year or two 
ago.” 

Jacqueline nodded again, wondering much that she, 
poor and insignificant, should be made to listen to 
this story, affecting only the aristocratic Leaven- 
worths. 

“Yes; she was then consigned to the Reform 
School at A ” 

“Just where I was ! ” cried Jacqueline. 

“ But only stayed there a short time ; in fact, her 
name is known as — Jacqueline Silsby ! ” 

“ What ! ” Jacqueline sprang to her feet, pale as 
ashes, and looked from one to the other in hopeless 
bewilderment. 

“Yes, dear, it’s true,” half sobbed Miss Patty: 
“your real name is Jacqueline Amory, and you’re 
Bert’s sister.” 

Bert’s sister! the magnitude of the idea made it 
impossible to grasp it at once. She had a swift vision 
of the elegant house and grounds she had often passed 


158 


TRANSPLANTED. 


by, wondering idly, perhaps, if it were as elegant 
inside as out, but thinking she should probably never 
see it, as Mrs. Leavenworth was so averse to strangers, 
— was this really now her home as well as Bert’s ? 
was this lady her grandmother ? and Miss Arlene, her 
well-loved, always-admired Sunday-school teacher, her 
own aunt ? It was too wonderful to believe. 

And through this confusion of thought Mr. Ran- 
dall’s voice ran on, explaining doubtful points, and 
showing how, link by link, he had made out the 
chain of testimony as to her birth and lineage. 

“I don’t think I could ever have fully satisfied 
myself, however, so as to have dared mention the 
matter to yourself and friends, had it not been for our 
visit to the hospital the other day. I thought at 
once this Nick might be able to help me, and went 
to see him again yesterday. He seemed much 
brighter, and, the nurse said, had had a restful night ; 
and when he found what I was after, was all eager- 
ness to help me. Previously, I had tried to find this 
Ma’am, but without success, as she was in hiding on 
account of the burglary ; but when Nick was certain 
no harm was intended her, he willingly told me of 
all her haunts, and, with a policeman’s aid, I soon 
found her. 

“You know this Nick is a nephew of hers, an 
orphan who has always lived with her. He was 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


159 


about six when your mother came there to board, and 
remembers her well, as she was very kind to him in 
some childish trouble, and thus earned his gratitude 
and friendship. He said she was so different from 
the most of the boarders that he couldn’t forget her, 
and described her ways and manners accurately, 
though she must have changed sadly in looks. He 
said she seemed indifferent to every thing in the 
world but her baby, whom she loved with the greatest 
devotion, and tried hard to keep aloof from the peo- 
ple about her. 

“ At that time, however, this Ma’am’s house was a 
comparatively respectable one, and it was not until 
after she came North that she gave up all notion of 
decency, and kept the thieving den we know of. Mrs. 
Amory died a few months before her husband, very 
suddenly, of pneumonia ; but though so ill she must 
have managed to write a few words to her parents in 
regard to her baby, for Nick says he remembers that 
sometime during the few days of her illness, Ma’am 
thrust a letter into his hand, with the command to run 
and mail it for the sick lady. He was playing a very 
interesting game of marbles, however, and tucking it 
into his pocket, forgot all about it, until some days 
later he found the letter where he had placed it. But 
the lady was then dead and buried, and the envelope 
grimy and defaced ; so, thinking it couldn’t much 


160 


TRANSPLANTED . 


matter, he dropped it slyly into the fire. And that 
was the end of what was, doubtless, poor Celia’s last 
pitiful appeal for help for her babe.” 

He turned away and furtively wiped his eyes, while 
Miss Patty and Jacqueline sobbed outright. 

“She said she must leave me to God,” said the 
latter softly. 

“ Yes, I can imagine how desolate she felt, poor 
girl ! poor mother ! for even then her husband was off 
on a spree, and she died alone ! Well,” he added 
more brightly, “ the good Lord has not betrayed her 
trust, my child ; you have been led in a wonderful 
manner, and I’ve thought these early experiences may 
make you a better woman than you might otherwise 
have been, — broader, more truly charitable and kind. 
Jacqueline, surely you never can look upon poverty, 
sin, and suffering, with negligent eyes, after your own 
experience of them ? ” 

“ Never,” said the girl, solemnly. 

“ So it has doubtless been for the best, as all must 
be that is ordered of God. I learned fuller particu- 
lars from Ma’am Grundy, though it was not until I 
had threatened her with the law that she would talk 
freely, but she finally told me the whole story. 

“When poor Celia had been buried a fortnight, 
Amory returned, and for a time was really sobered by 
his loss, and kept unusually steady. 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


161 


u Meanwhile, Ma’am took care of the baby, — you, 
Jacqueline — and grew attached to you in her rough 
way. Then your father got into bad company again, 
and died as we have seen. I really believe he meant 
to tell me about the child then, had he been able, but 
his disconnected sentence was misleading, and we did 
not think then that the word ‘ dead ’ referred to Celia, 
but to the baby, or we might have discovered the 
truth; for, supposing only the child was gone, we 
searched for a living mother ; while Mrs. Grundy 
never even heard of my visit to the hospital. 

“ After a while she came North in pursuit of her 
husband, who had come there ostensibly to find work, 
bringing Nick and yourself with her. She had an 
idea your mother had rich relations who might claim 
you some day, so she kept what few trinkets were 
left in her room, and let you grow up, much as she 
would a kitten found on her door-step, because too 
ignorant and careless to do any other way ; and 
besides, you made her think of an infant daughter 
she had lost. 

“ These articles of your mother’s are at my house, 
and you can see them whenever you choose. They 
prove your identity beyond a question. 

“Now, Jacqueline, I am going to see and prepare 
Mrs. Leavenworth, for I do not dare let her be too 
suddenly told of this wonderful news ; and when I 


162 


TUAN SPL ANTED. 


think you can safely come to her I will send Bert — 
your brother Bert ” — smiling blandly — “ for you. Be 
ready.” 

After Jacqueline had shown him out, doing every 
thing in a sort of daze, she went back to Miss Patty, 
and was surprised to see that she sat in her arm-chair, 
looking almost dejected, and was still vigorously 
using her handkerchief. 

“ Why, dear Miss Patty,” she said, kneeling by her 
side, “you act as if you were not glad for my great 
good fortune ! ” 

“ ’Tisn’t that — ’tisn’t that, child ! I feel I’m a 
selfish old coot, but I can’t help thinking how lone- 
some I’ll be after you go to your own home. • I’ve got 
to depending on you so, Jacqueline, it makes me for- 
lorn to think of living without you.” 

A wave of feeling passed over the girl’s heart. 
Sure enough, she must leave Miss Patty ; leave this 
peaceful home where she had been so happy. Would 
it be right, kind, in her to do so ? Miss Patty, who 
had taken her, friendless as she was, and made her as 
welcome as a daughter ; who had never once mistrusted 
her, but had helped her every day to grow better in 
all ways, — otight she to leave her ? 

It was a puzzle, and she put it by for the present, 
with the words, — 

“Miss Patty, don’t grieve. I promise you no 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


163 


friends can make me do wrongly by you. I can 
never forget what you have been to me” 

Then she hurried up to her room to dress herself in 
her neat muslin, and, in trembling expectation, await 
her summons to the house of her grandmother. She 
had come down-stairs and stepped into the conserva- 
tory to pick a flower or two, for her belt, when 
she heard a quick, noisy step, and Bert’s excited 
tones, — 

“ Oh, aunty ! where is she ? where is she ? ” and 
had barely time to turn when Bert caught her in a 
regular “ bear hug,” as his Aunt Arl called his long- 
armed embraces. 

“ Hooray ! hooray ! ” he cried, swinging her around 
in the narrow passage, much to the detriment of the 
plants on either side. “ Isn’t this jolly ? I’ve got a 
sister at last ! I’m so glad it’s you , J aca ! Do you 
know, I’ve liked you from the first minute I saw 
you, so frightened in the wood ? Oh, won’t we 
have good times ! ” and with the last words, he 
swung her through the door and before Miss Patty’s 
chair. 

“ You don’t act half glad, aunty,” he said suddenly, 
stopping in front of her, “ why don’t you get up and 
dance too ? ” 

She joined his laugh at the words. 

“ Well, I guess my feet and my heart are both too 


164 


TRANSPLANTED. 


heavy, Bert ! ” she said, with a shake of her head. 
“ You don’t seem to think that what’s your gain is my 
loss.” 

“ Surely ! I never thought of that, I declare, Aunt 
Patty. How are we going to fix that up ? But see 
here ! You’re to come to tea, now ; grandma says so. 
Pm to take my sister (see how my bosom swells with 
pride at that word ! ) over first, and pretty soon come 
back for you. Now, don’t refuse ! we won’t take ‘No’ 
for an answer.” 

“Wait a minute then, Bert, I must get her things,” 
said Jacqueline, starting off upstairs in exactly* her 
usual manner, and soon she had arranged every thing 
so that Miss Patty might have as little trouble as 
possible. 

The old lady looked at Bert significantly. “Do 
you wonder I dread to lose her ? ” she whispered. 

“ Do you wonder we want to have her ? ” he whis- 
pered, in return, as he followed Jacqueline from the 
room. 

She rode beside him very quietly in the teetering 
little cart, and Bert did not venture to interrupt the 
thoughtful mood which was plainly shown in the 
expression of her fair young face. She trembled a 
little as he turned into the drive, and finally lifted 
her out, before the door of the elegant house, which 
loomed tall and massive before her. She felt so 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


165 


small and insignificant here, all the old shyness 
seemed to come over her like a veil. 

But Bert took her hand and led her up the broad 
stone steps, then, turning as he opened the door, said 
with feeling, “ Welcome home, sister!” giving her 
hand so warm a clasp as to infuse new courage into 
her faint heart. 

They entered the lofty hall, and crossed its waxed 
floor to a double archway on the left, where they 
passed between rich curtains into a large and 
elegantly furnished room. Beyond, through other 
hangings, was a smaller and brighter one, where 
people were sitting, engaged in earnest conversa- 
tion. 

In a large crimson chair, dressed in mourning gar- 
ments, sat a beautiful old lady, with snow-white hair, 
who constantly pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. 
Opposite, was Mr. Randall, and near by Arlene and 
Bessie. 

The new-comers made no sound as they stepped 
lightly over the heavy Wilton carpet, until Bert, 
drawing the curtain a little aside, announced gravely, 

“ Grandma, this is my sister Jacqueline.” 

The old lady half rose, supporting herself by the 
arms of her chair, and looked piercingly at the slen- 
der girl in her light dress, framed in the curtained 
archway. Jacqueline’s eyes were wistful and tender 


166 


TRANSPLANTED. 


as she met this gaze, and something for which we 
have no name leaped from heart to heart. 

Mrs. Leavenworth held out her arms, — 

u My daughter ! It is my Celia over again ! ” she 
cried; and, as Jacqueline went swiftly forward, folded 
her in an embrace of perfect love and certainty of 
recognition. 

Mr. Randall and Bert turned hastily away to hide 
the emotion they could not control ; while Arlene and 
Bessie, between sobs and laughter, hastened to add 
their embraces and loving words to the elder lady’s, 
and for a time all was a confusion of emotions, so 
exquisite as to verge upon pain. 

Little by little they grew calmer, and Mrs. Leaven- 
worth, keeping tight hold of Jacqueline’s hand, drew 
her to a seat close by, and gave her frequent loving 
glances, reveling in the beauty and refinement she 
had not dared to hope for, after hearing her sad story. 

After a while Bert returned for Miss Patty, and her 
entrance brought them down to earth again. While 
the elder ladies were exchanging greetings, Arlene 
said to Jacqueline, — 

“ Come, my sweet niece, don’t you want to look 
over your new home ? ” 

Jacqueline, blushing shyly, rose to follow, but her 
grandmother held out a detaining hand. 

“ You’re not going away, dear ? ” 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


167 


“ Only with Miss Arlene to see the house, 
ma’am ” — 

“ Miss Arlene ! ma’am ! Is that the way you speak 
of your relatives, my child?” she asked reproach- 
fully. 

“ I mean — Aunt Arlene, and — grandmother,” she 
corrected herself, with an embarrassment she could 
not conceal. 

“ That’s better ! Quite right, dear ; but don’t stay 
long,” and the soft, lace-shaded hand released its 
clasp ; but the eyes, faded with bitter tears, watched 
her till she had disappeared from view. 

You can perhaps imagine, as well as I can describe, 
what were Jacqueline’s feelings as she and her young 
aunt, followed by Bessie and Bert, went over the 
beautiful house and grounds. 

It was by far the grandest place Jacqueline had 
ever seen, with devices for comfort which she had 
never even thought of, being unusually complete in 
every detail. The servants were all fixtures : Ginie 
being the colored cook, and her “ ole man,” Ike, the 
coachman; while their son Jim and daughter Jule 
acted as footman and upper housemaid. Then there 
was a gardener, who lived in his own cottage in the 
grounds, his wife acting as laundress ; and over all a 
housekeeper, called Mrs. Rutter, who had been here 
since Jacqueline’s mother was married. 


168 


TRANSPLANTED. 


By all these the new grand-daughter was welcomed 
with the greatest respect and affection, until she 
began to feel something like an ancestral princess in 
a fairy-tale ; and perhaps might have been spoiled by 
such an unexpected turn of Fortune’s wheel, had not 
her Christian faith been firm and abiding. 

“God is very good,” she thought, in her heart, 
“ but I must remember that I am just the same fool- 
ish little Jacqueline as ever. He could strip me of all 
this just as easily as he has given it to me, and I 
must not let it make me silly and proud ! ” 

So she kept her quiet, half-wistful, half-reserved 
manner, and they loved her the better for it. 

“Bress her sweet eyes!” cried Ginie warmly, as 
she passed from her special domain. “You kain’t 
’member, Jule, but she’s de bery make-up o’ Miss 
Cely herse’f ; sort o’ sweet, an’ still, an’ keepin’ her- 
se’f to herse’f, like a reg’lar moss-rose, but ’thout a 
speck o’ sass, or highfalutin’, in her purty body. 
An’ ef I ketch ye even a-hintin’ ’at she ain’t allers 
hed jest’s good’s the best, I’ll ladle ye, I will ! ” and 
at this dark threat Ginie gave her great eyes an omi- 
nous roll, and returned to her muffins. 

When the young people re-entered the library, Mrs. 
Leavenworth’s glance leaped to meet them. 

“Come, sit beside me, Celia,” she said inadver- 
tently j then, as the others exchanged glances, added, 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


169 


“ Ah ! I forgot ! I suspect I shall call you Celia 
oftener than any thing else dear, but you won’t 
mind ? ” 

“ It makes me very happy,” said Jacqueline simply, 
and the grandmother was pleased with her answer. 

“ Did you take her into my room, Arlene ? ” she 
then asked. 

“ No, mother ; I thought you would prefer to do 
that, perhaps.” 

“ You are right, my child. Will you all excuse us 
a few minutes ? ” and, taking Jacqueline’s hand, she 
led her gently into the room adjoining. 

It was large and richly fitted up, but Jacqueline 
saw nothing of it all, for she had no eyes except for a 
full-length portrait, from whose massive frame the 
very life-like girlish figure seemed just ready to step. 
Mrs. Leavenworth watched her, as with a faint cry, 
she stopped and looked at it intently, her face flush- 
ing and paling with deep feeling. 

“ It’s mamma ! ” she whispered, “ my own mamma ! 
She was older and thinner, but just as sweet. Oh ! I 
can see her so plainly now ; it brings it all back ! ” 
and it seemed as if she could not bear to leave this 
fair representation of her lovely mother. 

“ Do you know, Jacqueline,” said her grandmother, 
at length, “ that you are a year and a half older than 
you have been supposed to be ? ” 


1T0 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ No, am I ? How queer ! ” 

“ Yes. Bert was over three when you were born, 
and he is nearly eighteen, now.” 

“ And I am almost fifteen, then — but I don’t know 
my birthday,” regretfully. 

“ I do, though, my poor darling ! ” laying a hand 
tenderly on the bright young head. “ You will be 
fifteen the 20th of August. That will soon be here, 
now.” 

“ Why, grandmother ! it all seems so wonderful ! 
Yesterday, I had only Miss Patty and her kindness ; 
to-day, I have a grandmother, brother, aunt, home — 
and a birthday ! I can’t realize it.” 

“ Well, dear, you shall realize the birthday, at any 
rate. The old Leavenworth place has been too long 
shut up to gloomy memories. On that day it shall 
be opened and adorned, and our friends invited to 
rejoice with us over our new-found child ! ” 

“Do you mean,” shrinking back a little, “a — a 
party, grandmother ? ” 

“No, dear, not exactly. I should like better a sort 
of informal reception, extending through the after- 
noon and early evening, perhaps ; but we will see.” 

“ And, grandmother, how about Miss Patty ? ” 

“ Oh ! she’ll be here, of course.” 

“I know, but — I mean — think how she depends 
upon me ; how helpless she is ! would it ” — speaking 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


171 


low and timidly — “ be quite right for me to leave 
her all alone ? ” 

The elder lady looked down upon her tenderly. It 
seemed almost too great happiness to find her newly 
discovered grandchild possessed of a lovely nature, as 
well as face and form. 

“My darling, you would not choose Miss Patty 
before your own relatives ? ” 

“ No, dear grandma, but she took me when I had 
no friends, and loved and trusted me. She has given 
me the kindest home, and learned to lean upon me 
greatly; how could I neglect her, and leave her 
alone ? ” 

“You couldn’t! It would be unkind and wrong. 
We will have to manage somehow ; but one thing is 
certain, — this is your proper home, and I should be 
very loth to let you live elsewhere. Well, we won’t 
worry over that to-day ; let us go back to the others,” 
and soon they were all seated about the table in the 
grand old dining-room, being waited upon by the 
silent-shod Jim and Jule, amid a blaze of lights, 
flowers, crystal, and china. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 

It seemed odd enough to go back to the plain little 
cottage, but there was no question of any thing else, 
that night ; though bright and early in the morning 
Mr. Randall was again closeted with Miss Patty in 
earnest consultation. 

Bert, meanwhile, had driven up in the T-cart, to 
take his sister for a drive, but had been obliged to tie 
the horse and wait awhile, as she insisted on first 
finishing her morning duties; 

Fortunately these were not very heavy that day, 
so they were soon on the way to grandma’s for a 
morning call, before taking their drive proper. 

The sweet old lady greeted her grand-daughter 
tenderly, and Aunt Arl, as Bert insisted Jacqueline 
should also call her, was no less warm in her wel- 
come ; while Ginie bobbed a courtesy from the back 
garden, Jim pulled his forelock at the door, and Mrs. 
Rutter came from the dining-room to give her more 
dignified greeting. How delightful it all was ! could 
she be the very same friendless, forlorn waif of a 
172 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


178 


year and a half ago ? Was there a girl on earth who 
had such reason for thankfulness as herself ? 

And as, once more, they drove lightly away, her 
eyes shone with such brilliancy that Bert couldn’t 
but notice it. 

“You’re very happy, sister Jaca ? ” 

“ Oh, Bert ! ‘ happy ’ doesn’t express it ; it’s too 
good to be true ! ” 

“And if Miss Patty is obstinate, and won’t come 
and live with us, you won’t feel it’s your duty to 
stay there ? ” 

“ Why, Bert, you don’t mean — is that what they’re 
talking about ? ” 

“ Yes. Grandma is going to ask her to give up the 
cottage, and come to us. She says we have always 
liked the dear old lady, and now she seems just like 
one of the family ; and, grandma says, it does seem 
heartless to take you away, and leave her so alone 
there.” 

Jacqueline shook her head. 

“She’ll never come, Bert, never! Just think of 
her flowers, and all. No, I don’t believe you could 
coax her away ; it’s been her home so long ! ” 

“ But we can make her so much more comfortable, 
Jaca.” 

“ She won’t think so. It’s hard for the old to make 
changes, brother. I’m afraid she’ll never consent.” 


174 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ But you’ll come, anyhow, sister ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Not unless grandma insists. No, 
Bert, I feel that it’s my plain duty to stay with her, 
however hard it may be. She took me when I had 
only one friend — good Mrs. Kenneth, what will she 
say when she hears of my wonderful good fortune ? — 
and now, to selfishly leave hers for a finer home 
would be downright heartless! I don’t believe God 
would bless such a move, Bert.” 

“ Jaca, you’re the best girl I ever saw, and I won’t 
say another word ; let the old folks settle that, we’ll 
talk about other things,” and soon he was retailing 
some of his school adventures for her benefit, de- 
lighted to hear her fresh, hearty laugh, and 'to see her 
shyness give place to the frank, loving manner of a 
real sister. 

“ Bless me,” he thought, as he left her at the cot- 
tage-gate, and drove home again : “ I don’t see how 
boys can sneer at their sisters, as I’ve seen them do. 
I’d like to see anybody abuse mine ! ” and his eyes 
grew fierce at the very thought. 

Jacqueline found Miss Patty alone, looking so pale 
and fluttered that the girl’s heart ached for her ; and, 
obeying her first impulse, she put an arm about her 
neck, and said, — 

“ What is it, dear aunty ? May I call you aunty ? 
Bert does.” 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


175 


“Why, I’d be delighted, child! Oh, it’s nothing, 
dear, only I can’t seem to settle on what ought to be 
done. Of course you must go to your grandma’s, 
that’s only right, and they want me to go too ; but I 
don’t know, I don’t know ! I love every bush and 
twig here, and it’s like tearing me up by the roots, 
somehow ; yet the thought of having anybody else to 
take your place makes me fairly sick , — there ! I told 
you I was a selfish old coot, and I am!” and she 
burst into tears. 

For the dear old lady was growing weaker and more 
childish with each month, as all could plainly see. 

Jacqueline gently wiped her tears away with her 
own handkerchief, — for as usual, *Miss Patty had mis- 
laid hers, — making a strong, quiet resolve to herself 
as she did so, but she only said, — 

“ Don’t worry, aunty, don’t. If my happiness can 
only come by making you wretched I sha’n’t care for 
it. How, let’s have a nice little meal on the porch. 
I can make the tea in a few minutes, and there’s lots 
of cold chicken all ready,” and soon they were cozily 
seated in just the old way, making Miss Patty feel 
almost as if nothing had happened. 

When the dear lady was taking her after-dinner 
nap, however, Jacqueline took her hat, and started 
swiftly for Mr. Randall’s, resolved upon a certain 
course. Bessie met her at the door with a gay — 


176 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Good girl ! I saw you coming. It’s lovely to give 
us your first call.” 

“ But this is for your father entirely ! ” she said, 
archly. “ Is he in ? ” 

“To be sure, Miss Scornful. And mayn’t I even 
listen at the key-hole ? ” 

“Yes, if you’ll promise to take my part.” 

“ I always do — always did, from the beginning. 
Here, papa, is our fairy princess, with the dreadful 
French name. Enter, faire Ladye Jacqueline — the 
Lord High Chamberlain awaits you ! ” 

“ What nonsense, Bessie ! Well, my dear, you are 
welcome ; and how is poor Miss Patty ? Has she 
regained her equanimity, yet ? ” 

“ Partly, sir; and that’s what I came to talk about. 
Mr. Bandall, it is cruel to ask her to leave the cot- 
tage.” 

“ I felt it was this morning, my child.” 

“ And she can’t live there alone.” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“ Dear sir, help me to do right. I feel I must stay 
with Miss Patty.” 

“ There is much to say on the other side, Jacque- 
line. Your grandmother has mourned for years, and 
now feels almost as if her daughter were restored to 
her ; she, too, needs you.” 

“But, Mr. Bandall, she has Aunt Arlene, and Bert, 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


177 


and all her loving household, and you and Bessie; 
Miss Patty has only me.” 

“ You are right. But there is something to be said 
for yourself in this matter, Jacqueline. On one hand 
is a lonely life, toilsome too, to a certain extent ; on 
the other, society, companionship, wealth. Have you 
considered all this ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ And still prefer Miss Patty ? ” 

“Not exactly prefer, sir. I long to go to my very 
own home, but I could never enjoy it, thinking of poor 
Miss Patty, living there with somebody who might 
not half care for her. ’Twould make my food choke 
me, and I could not sleep in those beautiful rooms — 
it would poison every thing.” 

She turned her tearful eyes upon him, and he bowed 
his head gravely. 

“Jacqueline, I think you are right. If Miss Patty 
will not go to your grandmother’s, I believe we must 
make arrangements for you to remain there. After 
all, it is but five minutes’ walk from one house to the 
other.” 

Then, holding out his hand, he clasped her own 
warmly. 

“I perceive our little Jacqueline is as unselfish as 
she is brave and true. Nick told me of your encoun- 
ter in the woods, my dear, and I thank you more 


1T8 


TRANSPLANTED . 


than I can express for the courage you displayed. I 
told your grandmother of it, this morning, and she 
said at once, ‘If Jacqueline feels it is her duty to 
stay with Miss Patty, she shall stay. What you tell 
me makes me love her more than ever, but I shall not 
urge any selfish claims against her God-given 
instincts ’ ; so, my child, I think for the present we 
may consider this question settled.” 

“Oh, thank you, sir! That takes a load off my 
mind. I shall have two homes now, instead of one. 
How rich I am ! And now, Mr. Randall, might I see 
those things of my mother’s ? ” 

“Certainly, but they are at your grandmother’s, 
now ; would you like us to go over with you ? ” 
“Indeed I should,” said Jacqueline. 

So the three started for the Leavenworth house. 
They met Lou Talbot with another girl, just outside 
the gate, who looked after them in an unpleasant 
way. 

“How can Bessie Randall lower herself to be such 
friends with that poor-house girl; and Mr. Randall, 
too ? ” she said, indignantly. 

“Poor-house ! Did she come from the poor-house ? ” 
“Yes, or an orphan asylum, or something; she’s 
simply a nobody.” 

“Well,” said the other, “that’s just Bessie’s way 
of showing that she can do exactly as she pleases, I 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES . 


179 


believe. She’s a proud, stuck-up piece, and I can’t 
endure her ! ” 

“ Oh, I don’t feel that way,” Lou hastened to reply, 
for she had many good qualities, and loyalty to her 
friends was one of them. “ Bessie’s not a bit proud, 
and is generally as sensible as she is good ; but she 
seems perfectly infatuated now.” 

Fortunately, Jacqueline neither heard nor imag- 
ined these ill-natured speeches, so they hurt nobody 
but the speakers themselves, as is often the case. 

It was with strange feelings of tenderness, even 
veneration, that Jacqueline, sitting close by her 
grandmother’s side, received from her hands, and 
examined each article of her mother’s. There was a 
gold pin and ring, the photographs of her loved ones 
at home, — those of Bert, as a baby, and Arlene, a 
chubby, bare-armed little lass, especially interested 
her ; and, most precious of all, a well-worn Bible, its 
pages often blistered with tears, and passage after 
passage, especially those which comfort the weary- 
hearted, marked by her pencil. Both mother and 
child wept over them, but the elder lady’s tears were 
not bitter now. God had heard her daughter’s dying 
prayer, and sent this fair child back to her loving 
relatives, and the dreadful uncertainty of years was 
removed. Then, too, Mr. Randall was almost posi- 
tive that he could now find and remove the dear 


180 


TRANSPLANTED. 


body, to rest at last with its own kin. The relief of 
it all seemed to make her almost young again, and 
she began to show renewed interest in all her affairs. 

Jacqueline felt she must not stay long, as Miss 
Patty might need her, and, with a loving kiss, hurried 
away, leaving Mr. Randall to tell her grandmother of 
her final decision. 

Mrs. Leavenworth listened quietly. 

“ It is well,” she said, “ I shall see her every day, 
and of course we will make her life there as easy and 
bright as possible ; she is a dear, good girl ! ” 

“ As fine a girl as I ever saw ! ” returned Mr. Ran- 
dall warmly. 

“ Much obliged, papa ! ” put in Bessie, in a whim- 
sical whine. 

Her father only laughed; but, after they had 
reached home again, he suddenly exclaimed, — 

“ So, Miss Jealousy, you don’t like my admiration 
of Jacqueline Amory ? ” 

“ Why, papa ! she’s the dearest girl in the world, 
and I know it ; but remember ! your Bessie, like 
Napoleon, owns no rival.” 

“Very well, First-Consul, if that’s the case, just 
hand me down that second volume of Macaulay, and 
— ahem ! ” 

“ Betake myself elsewhere ? Oh, yes, I under- 
stand ! Off I go, then, but I don't see how any sane 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


181 


man can prefer a dead Macaulay to a living Bessie 
Bandall ! ” and with her gayest laugh she was gone. 

So it was finally arranged, to Miss Patty’s wonder- 
ing, but intense satisfaction, that Jacqueline was to 
stay with her for the present, at least ; but not ex- 
actly as before. 

A competent domestic was installed in the kitchen, 
and a larger room handsomely fitted up for Jacque- 
line. These things Mrs. Leavenworth insisted upon 
doing at her own expense for her much-loved grand- 
child. 

But the young girl still gave Miss Patty much 
personal care, and, for the rest, spent her time most 
happily between the two houses, both of which she 
called home. Her grandmother, who was herself 
thoroughly educated, soon began the delightful task 
of directing her reading and studies; music and 
drawing-teachers were procured, and daily the girl 
practised upon the grand piano in the Leavenworth 
drawing-room, while her progress in art was unusually 
rapid. 

Bert studied and read with her, and few brothers 
and sisters have ever been more congenial than they. 

Jacqueline’s connection with the Reform School 
was soon severed, when the facts in the case were 
made known ; and she received kind letters of con- 
gratulation from all three of the ladies at F cottage, 


182 


TRANSPLANTED. 


as well as from the superintendent herself. Mrs. 
Kenneth was really exultant. 

“I knew,” she wrote, “that there was something 
unusual about my little waif, and I am more thankful 
than I can express that she has found such a home 
and friends.” 

Then she promised to come and spend her next 
vacation with them, if possible, as Jacqueline had 
begged her to do, when writing her. 

Meanwhile, Nick was slowly failing, and about two 
weeks after Jacqueline’s first visit to her grand- 
mother, Mr. Randall came and asked her if she 
would like to make him another call. 

“ For,” said that gentleman, “ I do not think he can 
live many days, and he always asks eagerly after you, 
whenever I visit him.” 

So they went to the city together that very after- 
noon, Jacqueline taking a box of choice flowers, and 
some dainties of her own concocting. 

They found the boy greatly changed for the worse, 
but his eyes brightened at sight of them, though he 
was almost too weak even to clasp their hands. 

As Jacqueline bent over him, he whispered, — 

“I’m sure He’s heard me, Jack, — it’s all right! 
I’m jest a-waitin’, now,” and unable to utter more, 
closed his eyes, and lay in perfect peace. 

“ He won’t live through the night,” said the attend- 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


183 


ant, as they sadly left his bedside, “ and he seems 
glad to go. He’s been so patient, I’ve really grown 
attached to him, poor boy ! I never can think of him 
as a criminal.” And Jacqueline, thinking of the 
thief upon the cross, thanked God for his wonderful 
mercy to the children of men. 

As they reached the street, she said hesitatingly, — 
“ Mr. Randall ” — 

“Yes, child.” 

“ I’ve thought there’s something I would like to do, 
if it wouldn’t displease you.” 

“ Well, what is it, my dear ? ” 

“It is, to go to Gem Street once more ; just for a 
little while, and if Ma’am is there ” — 

“ She is. She has come home, but Mike has fled, 
nobody knows where ; and she has had such a fright I 
shouldn’t wonder if she tried to keep a more respect- 
able house after this. At any rate, she makes great 
promises. Well, we’ll go there, if you like ; there’s 
plenty of time before the early train,” and hailing a 
car, they were soon leaving the cool, quiet part of 
the city for the narrow, shadeless streets, with fre- 
quent saloons and dilapidated tenements, which led 
to Jacqueline’s old home. 

They had to leave the car a block or two away, and 
as they turned a sudden corner, Jacqueline gave an 
exclamation of recognition ; it was that very corner 


184 


TRANSPLANTED . 


near which she had been arrested on that May morn- 
ing, over a year ago, and there, half a block away, was 
the same old tenement, down whose crumbling, paint- 
less steps she had idly hopped, and waited till she 
caught sight of the boys, and ran to meet them. 

Her heart thumped with excitement as they passed 
up the steps, and she kept close to Mr. Randall’s side 
while he knocked loudly on the black, forbidding 
door. 

It was opened a little way at length, and Ma’am 
herself appeared in the narrow aperture. 

“ Good-afternoon, Mrs. Grundy,” said Mr. Randall 
politely. “I’m glad to find you at home. Here is a 
young lady who would like to see you.” 

The door opened wider, and Ma’am’s sodden eyes 
fastened upon Jacqueline, who said quickly, — 

“Don’t you remember me, Ma’am?” 

“Be you Jack?” she asked, in a surprised tone; 
“ my, but you’ve growed ! ” and she led them, half- 
reluctantly, within, seating them on two hard chairs. 
Standing opposite, with her arms akimbo, she coolly 
proceeded with her scrutiny. “Well!” she added, 
“I never thought yer’d be like this; yer didn’t 
han’some much, them days, Jack. Fine clo’es makes 
a heap o’ diff’rence, don’t they ? ” 

“ I think happiness makes more, Ma’am, and kind 
treatment, don’t you ? ” 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


185 


“Oh, likely,” with indifference, “but yer was a 
spunky brat, an* needed takin’ down now V then. I 
wa’n’t so bad to yer, Jack! Didn’t never starve yer 
so long’s I hed victuals myself, an’ whippin’s is good 
fur youngsters, ’specially sassy ones like you. I 
s’pose yer wouldn’t car’ to come back yer ? ” laughing 
hoarsely. 

An involuntary shudder passed over the girl, as she 
shook her head. 

“No. And I wish you could find a pleasanter 
home, Ma’am” — 

“ Don’t want none ! ” gruffly, “ I’m all right. Ole 
folks don’t like to keep a changin’ like young uns. I 
wouldn’t hev nothin’ in common with your kind o’ 
folks ; and yer better jest let me alone,” with one of 
her old moody scowls. 

“ I don’t want to trouble you, Ma’am ; only I’ve 
known both lives, and it is so much better to 
live clean and honest and true. I think if you’d 
try it awhile, you’d never want to come back, 
either.” 

“ Who says I ain’t honest ? Sassy as ever, I see. 
Now, yer needn’t go to puttin’ on airs with me, Jack 
Silsby ! I know yer, and ye ain’t no better’n other 
brats. Ef thet’s all yer want, I’ve got other things to 
’tend to.” 

Mr. Randall rose. 


186 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Are you ready, Jacqueline ? I think it is hardly 
worth while to prolong this interview.” 

“ Yes, sir,” and she followed him out, Ma’am grimly 
bringing up the rear ; but as they reached the outer 
door, Jacqueline, yielding to some impulse, turned 
and held out her delicately gloved hand. 

“ Don’t let us part like this, Ma’am ; I didn’t mean 
to offend you. You took care of me when I was left 
a forlorn little child, and I’m really grateful ; won’t 
you shake hands ? ” 

Ma’am hesitated a minute, then put her hands 
behind her. “I’ve bin scrubbing an’ I ain’t fit to 
tech yourn, but I ain’t mad, and,” evidently strug- 
gling against herself, “I’m glad ye’re so well off, 
there ! ” 

“Thank you. And if ever you need a friend, 
Ma’am, remember I’m one, will you ? ” her eyes shin- 
ing with eagerness and sincerity, into the sullen orbs 
opposite. 

“ Oh, yes ; ’tain’t likely I’ll forgit ; good-by,” and 
the door closed abruptly behind them. 

But, after they had reached the sidewalk it was 
furtively opened a crack, and did not close again till 
that fateful corner was rounded. Then Ma’am went 
back to her work with a new look on her face, as she 
thought, — 

“ She’s like a picter ; an’ she talked as ef she meant 


A VISIT TO OLD SCENES. 


187 


it all. ‘ Clean an’ honest an’ true,’ humph ! It’s aisy 
to be them, when you’re rich, I’m thinkin’. ‘Ef I 
ever want a friend,’ eh ? An’ she looked at me as ef 
she was' a friend ; wish to gracious I hedn’t thrashed 
her so when she was little. But she was aggrivatin’ 
an’ no mistake. ‘ Clean an’ honest an’ true ; ’ oh 
dear ! oh dear ! I was them onct ! ” and Ma’am’s 
apron went over her head, as she burst into an agony 
of tears. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Jacqueline’s birthday. 

The happy days passed swiftly; and, before she 
fairly realized it, Jacqueline’s fifteenth birthday was 
at hand. Mrs. Leavenworth had made arrangements 
to carry out her original idea of a reception, only it 
was to be of the nature of a lawn fete , as well ; and you 
may smile when I tell you that it seemed to Jacque- 
line, in anticipation, one of the most formidable 
events of her life. 

She had learned by this time to be sufficiently easy 
in the society of her friends, but still shrank timidly 
from meeting strangers. 

But she saw it pleased her grandmother to do this, 
so said nothing, and, after a little began to enter into 
the spirit of it, delighting in the task of trimming 
the house with flowers till it looked like a bower. 
Outside a handsome striped marquee was being set 
up on the velvety lawn. 

Then, what girl could resist the thought of an 
entire and elaborate new costume ? Certainly not 
our beauty-loving Jacqueline. 

It was a fine white organdie, profusely trimmed 
188 


JACQUELINE' S BIRTHDAY. 


189 


with lace, and a dainty little gypsy hat, adorned 
with marguerites, was to be worn with it ; while long 
lace mitts drawn over the sheer sleeves, came nearly 
to the shoulders. Her only ornaments were deep red 
roses at neck and waist ; and when she presented 
herself, thus dressed, before her grandmother, the 
latter stooped to kiss her, with secret gratifica- 
tion. 

“Your dress is becoming, dear; I feel sure your 
behavior will correspond ! ” and J acqueline felt she 
could sooner cut off a finger than commit an impro- 
priety, after that. 

Bert was more outspoken. 

“ You look like a court-beauty, Jaca ; I declare, 
dress does make a difference.” 

“A little,” said Arlene, “but if Jaca should do 
something ugly in that dress, you’d like her better in 
the old one.” 

“'Oh, but she couldn’t be ugly, Aunt Arl, if she 
tried; but what have you done with Miss Patty, 
Jaca?” 

“ She’s just gone out to the marquee with grandma. 
Wait, Bert, your necktie’s just a bit crooked ; there, 
that’s better. How fine you look, brother ! ” 

“ Much obliged ; but I wanted to wear my tennis 
rig ; think I might, too ; but grandma thought it 
wasn’t just the thing, considering I’m host, and all 


190 


TRANSPLANTED. 


that. Say, Jaca, did you ever wear a ring in your 
life?” 

“No, never.” 

“All right, then. Here’s from your brother, with 
best birthday wishes,” and, opening a tiny box which 
he had held concealed in one hand, he slipped upon 
her finger a pretty, girlish circlet set with pearls. 

“ Oh, how beautiful ! How good you all are to me. 
Do you know, Aunt Patty gave me the prettiest little 
work-basket all fitted up ; and this elegant dress from 
grandma; and that lovely set of Dickens from Aunt 
Arlene ” — 

“ And this, with the compliments of your friends, 
Mr. Randall and Bessie,” broke in a gay voice at her 
elbow, and turning, she received into her hand, out- 
stretched in welcome, a magnificent copy of Milton’s 
“ Paradise Regained.” 

“ I thought it was appropriate to the occasion ; you 
would understand how one feels to come back to 
Eden,” said the irrepressible girl. 

“ Bessie,” said her father, half-reproachfully, “ is all 
life a jest to you ? ” 

“ I don’t know, papa. I believe I am & good deal 
like the Frenchman, who said it was ‘ one fast choke ’ 
meaning ‘ vast joke ’ of course, — when he was going 
to be hanged. Why don’t you come out-doors ? We 
saw your grandma and Aunt Patty gossiping con- 


JA CQ UELINE ’S BIR THDA F. 191 

tentedly enough under the tent-fly. Where are you 
going to receive ? ” 

“ There, I believe — aren’t we, Bert ? ” 

“ Well then, you must hurry, for some carriages 
have just driven up. Here, Jule, take my wraps, 
please ; do you like my dress, Bert ? I knew you 
would. Come on, all,” and she tripped out, each 
obediently following, for nobody could resist the gay, 
frank, fun-loving girl, whose heart was in the right 
place, if her tongue did sometimes wag too carelessly. 

The weather was kind that day, and it was a lux- 
ury to breathe the balmy air, and step about on the 
thick turf, among the flowering shrubs, which were 
not more gay than the groups of human blossoms 
scattered here and there. All the town had turned 
out to honor Mrs. Leavenworth and her grandchild ; 
while many had come also from the city, glad to see 
once more their old friend, and visit the once hospi- 
table, but so long-closed mansion, where she had often 
entertained them in by -gone days, with rare refinement 
and cordiality. 

Some of Jacqueline’s story had also crept out; 
enough to make every body curious to meet her ; and 
it is safe to say many were a good deal astonished to 
find, instead of the awkward, ill-bred child they had 
expected, a charming girl, who, though she talked 
little, said that little well, and who was not so greatly 


192 


TRANSPLANTED. 


elated by her sudden change of fortune as to appear 
at all disagreeable. 

But how was it with J acqueline at heart ? 

It would have been almost impossible that she 
should not be somewhat affected by all this. There 
is, perhaps, nothing so fatal to Christian growth as 
too great earthly prosperity. The soul grows callous 
and cold ; selfishness creeps in, and heaven’s remoter 
glories pale before the present light of enjoyment. 
Then, too, as Spurgeon aptly says, “ It takes a great 
deal of grace to be able to bear praise,” and Jacque- 
line had won considerable of that lately, withal. 

But she honestly tried to keep herself humble, and 
remember that she was the very same, with only her 
outward circumstances changed. 

Thus, being a resolute little Jaca, and strong in her 
determination to honor the good God who had done 
so much for her, she was, perhaps, as little affected by 
all this as one of her age and temperament could be. 

As it grew darker the house and grounds were 
illuminated, and looked almost like a fairy scene. 
The lamps suspended from trees £,nd shrubs were of 
many colors, while a row of Japanese globe-lanterns 
arched the entrance to the carriage-drive, under 
which groups were constantly coming and going. 
Jacqueline started for the house through the rear 
part of the grounds, to carry a message from her 


JACQUELINE'S BIRTHDAY. 


193 


grandmother to Mrs. Putter. She stopped and looked 
about her a moment, a flood of proud delight filling 
her heart. 

“ It’s my home ! ” she thought ; “ I could come 
here and live all the time, if it weren’t for Miss 
Patty ! ” and, for the minute, a selfish, unworthy 
wish crossed her mind. 

Then she heard a rustle in the shrubbery at the 
other side of the large tree by which she was stand- 
ing, and a voice said, — 

“ Well, it’s a grand old place ! I wonder if that 
girl knows enough to appreciate her luck.” 

“ I don’t know ; they say she’s going to stay on 
with that queer old maid she’s been living with — 
odd too ; it can’t be her own choice.” 

“ Probably not. The old lady is as proud as fury, 
you know, and no doubt is glad enough to leave her 
there till she has had a chance to give her a few 
lessons in etiquette.” 

“ Not but that she appears well enough, while she 
keeps still — really pretty, indeed; but she proba- 
bly is as ignorant and ill-bred as possible. Have you 
heard her say any thing ? ” 

“ Yes, a little.” 

“ Did she murder the Queen’s English ? ” 

“ Why, no, I can’t say that she did ; but ’twas only 
a sentence, or two.” 


194 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Oh, you mark me ! she’ll put them to the blush 
often enough ! ” and they passed on out of hearing. 

Jacqueline stood still, and her face grew scarlet, 
then white. There is nothing so hard to weak human 
nature as to make some great sacrifice, and have it 
either utterly ignored, or imputed to some other cause 
than our own good will ; and Jacqueline was not yet 
old enough to hear such misapprehension with calm- 
ness. Then, too, all her pride was stung to the quick 
by the cruel slurs upon her breeding, which, she felt, 
had not been deserved by any thing in her manners 
this afternoon and evening. 

The words had been like a dash of cold water over 
her glowing joy and pride of a moment before, and 
her worst passions were instantly aroused. She 
clinched her fists in the old way, and shook them 
passionately after the retreating figures. 

“ You hateful liars ! ” she exclaimed, in a deep 
voice, vibrating with anger ; “ oh, you liars ! ” and 
the force of her feelings choked her. Then, turning, 
she ran wildly along the path, and into the house 
through a back door, and so on, up the back stairway 
to the little room which had just been fitted up for 
Bert and herself, as a studio. It was almost the only 
room unlighted, except those of the domestics ; and, 
throwing herself face down upon a small divan across 
one corner, she burst into a flood of tears. 


JACQUELINE’S BIRTHDAY. 


195 


u Oh ! oh ! ” she thought, “ what’s the use ? I’ve 
tried so hard to be true, and good, and like a lady ; 
and that’s the way they talk about me! As if 
grandma, and all, were ashamed of me ; and perhaps 
they are — how do I know ? Oh, I won’t stand it ! 
I’m an Amory, as well as Bert, whatever they say, 
and I’ll come here and live to-morrow. I’ll show 
them, — hateful things ! Oh, it’s too, too mean ! ” 
and the sobs came with uncontrollable force. 

She was so. wrapped up in her emotions that she 
did not hear the door open, nor suspect the surprised 
figure which stood motionless a moment, watching 
her own, so clearly outlined by her white dress in the 
moonlighted room ; nor was she at all conscious of 
Arlene’s presence, until the latter knelt beside her, 
and, laying a hand on her arm, said gently, — 

“ Jacqueline ! What is it, darling ? what has hap- 
pened ? ” 

A fresh burst of sobs was the only answer. 

“ My dear child, don’t cry so ! There, there ! Why, 
J aca, w r hat can it be ? Do try and control yourself, 
before mother ' asks for you — it would break her 
heart to see you like this.” 

The reference to her grandmother brought another 
outburst, but it was a clearing-up shower, and, after 
a little, the tears flowed more quietly, and she could 
answer brokenly, — 


196 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ 1 overheard something that — hurt my feelings,” 
(more sobs) “ and — and ” — 

“ Who said it, dear ? Any of our household ? ” 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” 

“ Mr. Randall ? Bessie ? ” 

“ No — no — they wouldn’t.” 

“ Was it anybody you care much ior ? ” 

“ ’Twasn’t anybody I know — at all.” 

“ Well, foolish child, then why should you care ? 
Would you be willing to tell me what they 
said ? ” 

“ They said I — I stayed with Miss Patty because — 
grandma was — ashamed to have me here ! ” (Another 
shower.) 

“But, Jaca, you know that isn’t true ! ” 

“ Yes — but ” — 

“ And yet you let it wound you like this ! Jacque- 
line, dear, why did you stay with Miss Patty ? Was 
it to please yourself, the world, or your heavenly 
Father ? ” 

“It was — the last, I hope.” 

“Well, then, doesn’t He understand you thoroughly, 
even if the world doesn’t ? ” 

“Yes — of course.” 

“Then why will you let any thing careless outsiders 
say, hurt you, when you know you have His approval ? 
My dear, forgive me if I say this looks a little, just 


JACQUELINE’S BIRTHDAY. 


19T 


a little — as if you had also wanted human praise, 
doesn’t it, Jaca ? ” 

“ I don’t know, but it’s hard to do right when you 
don’t want to, and then be talked about — so ! ” 

Arlene laughed a little, but so tenderly that her 
niece could not feel hurt ; at the same time she drew 
the brown head to her breast, and wiped away the 
bitter tears with her own delicate handkerchief. 
Then she said, — 

“Yes, dear, it is hard, but if we can truly say ‘My 
heart is stayed on Thee,’ all these things lose their 
force. Those who please Christ are very apt to dis- 
please the world, and I want my little niece to grow 
so strong in her Christian service that she shall not 
mind any thing the world may say, if she is certain 
she is doing God’s will. Now, put this all aside, dear ; 
keep right on in the straight course as you have be- 
gun, and don’t let it rankle for a moment ; will you 
try ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s right. Come, I’ll smuggle you into my 
room to wash your face, while I run down and see to 
things. Didn’t mother send some message to Mrs. 
Kutter ? ” 

“ Oh, I forgot ! It was to send two more refresh- 
ment-tables out to the marquee.” 

“Very well, — I’ll see to it. Come, dear,” and 


198 


TRANSPLANTED. 


kissing her tenderly, Arlene led her down the hall to 
her own room, when with a parting “ Eemember ! 
Christ must be all in all,” she left her, to hurry down 
to other duties. 

Jacqueline’s first act, when left alone, was to go 
down upon her knees and humbly ask pardon for her 
pride and anger ; her next, to make herself present- 
able again. After which she sought out Miss Patty, 
and by the most watchful attentions and loving care, 
sought to make amends before all for her momentary 
ill-feeling against her ; resolutely staying beside her 
in the warm, lighted rooms, quite removed from the 
open windows, as Miss Patty’s rheumatism compelled 
her to keep out of all draughts, and shutting her eyes 
to the beauty and gayety without. 

Soon, however, the guests all departed, except the 
intimate family friends. Mrs. Leavenworth was ani- 
matedly talking it over with Mr. Eandall in the deep 
side portico, from whence they could give directions 
about the removing of the lanterns. 

She seemed years younger to her companion, as, 
erect and dignified, she had bidden her guests adieu, 
with some cheery or witty remark for each, and he 
felt inexpressibly thankful that his efforts at reclaim- 
ing her grandchild had been so productive of good. 
He expressed something of this, as they re-entered 
the house, just as Jacqueline stepped into the cloak- 


JACQUELINE’S BIRTHDAY. 


199 


room off the side hall, to get Miss Patty’s wraps, 
where she was concealed by the half-shut door. 

“Yes,” she heard her grandmother say, as they 
passed by, “ I should have welcomed her warmly for 
Celia’s sake, even if she had been ignorant and un- 
couth ; but to find her possessed of the best Christian 
qualities of her mother, added to a refined, modest 
manner, makes me so happy I feel as if I were young 
again ! Ah ! Richard, hope is the only fountain of 
youth, after all, — and I hope great things for my 
grandchildren.” 

So Jacqueline’s heart was comforted. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


TAKING A STAND. 

The very next day came the news of Nick’s death, 
and, a day or two later, the three young people, in 
Mr. Randall’s care, went to the city to attend his 
funeral, carrying many beautiful flowers to lay upon 
his coffin. In spite of their expectations he had 
lived several days after Jacqueline’s visit, though 
they were mostly spent in a stupor that was much 
like death ; but at the last he had roused up for a 
moment, given one bright, upward look with wide- 
opened eyes, and exclaiming, “ Oh, how purty ! ” had 
dropped back, quite gone. What he had seen, or 
imagined in that one glance, who can say ? But 
Jacqueline hoped it was a glimpse of a brighter 
future than the poor, neglected boy had ever even 
dreamed of. 

Through Mrs. Leavenworth’s generosity he was 
buried in a small purchased lot, with fitting ceremon- 
ies, and Jacqueline wept with real grief over his 
grave. 

Ma’am was there, too, in a very decent suit of 
mourning, and her face wore a softer look than usual. 

200 


TAKING A STAND. 


201 


As they turned away from the grave, she stepped up 
to Jacqueline, and held out her gloved hand. 

“Will ye shake to-day, Jack?” she asked, looking 
keenly into the girl’s tearful eyes. 

Jacqueline readily gave her hand. Ma’am held it 
irresolutely a moment, then spoke quickly, as if afraid 
to delay. 

“ J ack, I want to tell yer, I’m a-goin’ away from 
’ere, ’way out West ; an’ I’m a-goin’ to try an’ be wot 
yer said.” 

“ What I said, Ma’am ? ” 

“ Yes ; ‘ clean, an’ honest, an’ true,’ ye know. I’m 
a-goin’ to try it, onyhow ! ” 

“Oh, Ma’am, how glad I am! Mr. Eandall, can’t I 
ride back in the hack with Ma’am ? ” 

“Certainly. We will wait for you at the station.” 

Jacqueline was soon seated beside the woman who 
had once been her only protector, and listening 
eagerly as she told how Mr. Eandall had given her 
such a kind letter from Mrs. Leavenworth, the other 
day, containing a check for three hundred dollars, and 
asking her to take it and begin a new and better life. 

Ma’am’s usually fierce eyes were actually softened 
by tears, as she told how she meant to do this, and 
was going to take all her savings and start a small 
farm. 

“ But who will go with you ? ” asked J acqueline. 


202 


TRANSPLANTED. 


The woman hesitated a moment, — 

“ One kin alters git comp’ny ; an’ I knows young 
men wot’s tired o’ wrong ways, an’ would like a 
chance at suthin’ better. Now, ef Mike should ever 
come back ” — she stopped, and gave Jacqueline a sly 
glance. 

“ Oh, if he only would give up that dreadful life, 
and go on a farm, how glad I’d be ! ” 

“Yes, but ye see, he can’t, ’cause they’d nab ’im 
right up fur thet bu’glary, ef they knew ; but mebbe 
sometime, who knows ? ” 

They parted kindly, never to meet again ; and, as 
Jacqueline was carried swiftly homewards on the 
railway-train, she felt that now she had indeed left 
her old life behind her, and could look forward with 
hope to the glad future. 

There was only a week or two more before school 
should begin, and she was resolved that her relatives 
should have no cause to blush for her there. 

It was Mr. Randall’s opinion that Bert might as 
well remain at home, and attend the public school 
this year ; for the management was much better than 
it had been, and masters could be procured from the 
city for the art studies he had always been so inter- 
ested in. Then brother and sister could study these 
together, and would learn all the faster for their com- 
panionship. 


TAKING A STAND. 


203 


Bert, therefore, entered upon his last year, while 
Jacqueline was still low down in the grammar-school. 
But the persistence with which she read and studied 
proved that she would make rapid strides forward. 

Bessie was also to go this winter, being in the class 
just below Bert, and she was to join them in their 
studies at home, as well. 

So the studio was fitted with three easels, a large 
table, and models and studies in profusion, and here 
the hours from eight to ten, daily, were spent most 
delightfully, after which they attended school through 
the remainder of its session. Their music-lessons 
were, of course, received separately, Bessie practising 
at home, and Bert and Jacqueline on the Leavenworth 
piano. A boy was hired to assist in the greenhouse, 
and Hannah, the domestic, kept the cottage in nice 
order; so that Jacqueline had little to do, except 
attend to her studies, and keep up the little personal 
offices for Miss Patty which showed her love and 
care. 

Saturdays were always delightful days, and gener- 
ally spent together among the three houses, or in 
riding or walking in the pleasant autumn weather. 
Jacqueline had felt very humble for a good while 
after her outburst on her birthday night, and at first 
thought she had no right to call herself a Christian, 
but a talk with Arlene showed her how wrong was 


204 


TRANSPLANTED. 


this feeling, and she had now about decided to unite 
with the church the first Sunday in October. 

But she longed intensely that Bert should unite 
with her, and that, at present, seemed quite foreign 
to his mind. Bert was a boy of the best principles, 
with a reverent regard for all holy things, but he was 
full of fun and frolic, and had an idea he must change 
his whole demeanor should he unite himself with the 
church. 

Their pastor had been a grave, austere man, with 
whom the youth of his flock could find little in com- 
mon, but failing health had made it necessary for 
him to resign his charge, and he was replaced by a man 
of entirely different characteristics. Mr. Case was 
apparently the cheeriest, most light-hearted of men, 
with a quick, joyous step, a sympathetic voice, and a 
smiling, even merry face, while the grasp of his 
hand was cordiality itself. 

He seemed determined to become thoroughly ac- 
quainted with each one of his parishioners, and was 
especially pleasant to the young men. There was an 
organization of the Y. M. C. A. in town, but it had 
been so neglected for lack of interest and funds, that 
the rooms were about to be given up. 

This decision Mr. Case begged them to reconsider, 
and asked the members of the Sunday-school to come 
forward and do something to revive an interest in 


TAKING A STAND. 


205 


this good work. The man’s manner was magnetic, 
and when he called upon all who would help to raise 
their hands, there was not one which did not fly up 
into the air, with comical readiness. 

Mr. Case was wise. He knew that where the chil- 
dren are interested, the parents soon come to be, and 
with two hundred children talking and planning, a 
goodly number of older people would soon begin to 
talk and plan also, to some purpose. So a meeting 
was called at Lou Talbot’s house, — for there wasn’t 
a more enthusiastic girl in town than Lou, when 
there was any thing of this kind to be done, — and 
all our young people were there. 

It was rather funny to see how completely Lou 
ignored all past opinions in regard to Jacqueline, and 
now treated her with the warmth of sincere friend- 
ship ! But as Jacqueline had never thoroughly 
understood her past feelings, so she now did not 
entirely welcome her present ones, and treated her 
much the same as she had always done, politely, but 
with a certain quiet reserve that all of Lou’s airy 
friendliness could not quite sweep away. It vexed 
the latter that it was so ; she liked prestige so well she 
would have been very glad to be the intimate friend of 
the Leavenworth family, free to come and go as she 
chose ; but Jacqueline’s instinct in these things was 
unusually true, and, without even knowing of the many 


206 


TRANSPLANTED. 


ill-natured speeches Lou had made about her, she felt 
that she could never care for her as she did for 
Fannie Gilbert and other girls, who came next to the 
supreme place Bessie held in her heart. _ 

The large parlors were filled to-night, and there 
was a Babel of voices, in which the words “ fair,” 
“bazaar,” “social,” “ entertainment,” “ supper,” etc., 
were often heard. Mr. Case took the chair, and, 
rapping the meeting to order, called upon several of 
the older ones present, to give their opinions as to 
the best method of raising money to pay the rent of 
the Young Men’s Christian Association rooms for 
another year, as well as to make them more attractive 
than at present, and revive interest in this work. 

Arlene, with 'her betrothed, George Harper, was 
present, and the young man’s intelligent face so 
attracted the minister’s attention that he asked him 
if he had any suggestions to make. Though taken 
by surprise, George at once rose, and, first stating 
that not being a resident now, he really had no right 
to interfere, began to tell of certain methods which 
they were using, with good effect, in the city. 

George was well known to many, and he was given 
a hearty round of applause as he took his seat, which 
brought blushes to Arlene’s face, as well as his 
own. 

Then others followed, and among the many opin- 


TAKING A STAND. 


20T 


ions and plans, a few were finally decided upon, 
which, as we may see, were carried out later on. 

As our special young friends left the house, they 
found Mr. Case in their group, and in pairing off, 
Bert stepped forward with Bessie, while Jacqueline 
fell to his share. After talking over the evening’s 
plans a little, Mr. Case asked, suddenly, — 

“Miss Jacqueline, you are not a member of the 
church ? ” 

“No, sir, not yet.” 

“ But you would like to be ? ” 

“Yes, sir. I had thought of joining next com- 
munion, but I am not decided, because ” — 

“ Yes — because ? ” 

She lowered her voice. 

“I am so anxious to have my brother join with 
me!” 

“ And isn’t he willing ? ” 

“ No, sir, not exactly. I’ve thought, perhaps if you 
could talk to him ; but he won’t let me even suggest 
such a thing.” 

Mr. Case smiled. 

“ I don’t think he need fear me ! I mean to have 
many a talk with him, as well as all my young people, 
and I hope the time will come when not one of them 
will dread to see me ! Well, good-night, Miss Jacque- 
line ; I have to go down this street to call on Mr. 


208 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Phelps, who is worse to-night, but I shall see you 
again, soon,” and, lifting his hat courteously, he left 
her with her friends. 

But the very next day (it was Saturday) as Bert 
sat fishing off a pier of the bridge at the foot of the 
Leavenworth grounds, in a meditative mood, he heard 
a hearty voice bidding him “ Good-day,” and looking 
up, saw Mr. Case approaching. In a matter-of-course 
way he seated himself beside the boy, and asked, with 
interest, — 

“ What have you caught ? ” 

“ Nothing but a ‘ shiner ’ or two, yet, but sometimes 
there’s a run of perch through here, and I thought I’d 
try my luck to-day.” 

“ It’s a sport I was very fond of as a boy,” and 
Mr. Case went on, in a joyous tone, giving a few 
reminiscences of his boyhood that at once secured 
Bert’s attention and interest; and before the boy 
realized it, he was talking with his minister as freely 
as if the latter had been a boy himself. 

It did not take long to bring the conversation 
around to this new charge and its duties, about which 
Mr. Case talked freely, taking it for granted that 
Bert should feel as interested as himself, and be 
ready to give him his support and countenance. 

“A minister can do little without the help of the 
young men of his church,” he said, casually, “ espe- 


TAKING A STAND. 


209 


cially in our church, here, where the older members 
are dropping out so fast, with nobody to take their 
places. If one has means and influence, so much the 
more necessary that he should consecrate himself, 
and all he has, to God’s service. You are not a mem- 
ber yet, Bert ? ” 

“No, sir.” 

“That is strange. Brought up in the church as 
you have been, and always on the side of right and 
truth — why is it ? ” 

Bert moved uneasily. 

“ I hardly know. I’ve no desire to be a bad boy ; 
yet, somehow, I hate to give up my freedom, too.” 

“ In other words you still prefer service under the 
devil to that under Christ ? ” 

Bert started at the strong words, though they were 
softened a little by the man’s genial smile. 

“ Oh ! no, sir — only ” — 

“ Only you can’t explain it in any other way, my 
boy, if you come down to the gist of the matter. 
Free we can never be in this world, for there is some- 
thing within we must obey : the good and the evil 
are ever struggling for the mastery — the good is of 
God, the evil of Satan, we believe j now, the only 
question is, ‘ Which shall I serve ? ’ ” 

Bert went home very quiet and thoughtful. He 
felt the justice of these words, and they touched him 


210 


TRANSPLANTED. 


closely. He meant to be on the right side, always. 
He had no wish for low, debasing pleasures ; why 
should he hesitate, then, to come out on the Lord’s 
side ? It was an afternoon of thought and prayer to 
Bert, mostly spent in his own room, and when, after 
supper, he entered Miss Patty’s parlor, and Jacque- 
line, sitting alone, reading under the lamp, looked 
up to greet him, she knew by his face that he had 
something to tell her. 

“ Bert ? ” she said, rising quickly and coming for- 
ward, her face one intensified question. 

He stooped and kissed her tenderly. 

“Jaca, I have made my decision; I’ll be on the 
Lord’s side; we’ll join the church together!” and 
J acqueline felt that her happiness was complete. 

The next Sunday but one — being the first in Octo- 
ber — was a soft dreamy day, with a lilac haze nearly 
obliterating the distant mountains ; and all three of 
our friendly families were on their way early to 
church. Miss Patty and Jacqueline sat in the long 
Leavenworth pew, and George Harper was also pres- 
ent, in addition to the rest of the family, just filling 
it comfortably. 

Many eyes were turned upon Mrs. Leavenworth, 
who had not been out for so many years, and those 
who knew her best were glad to see that her mourning 
was lightened by more white than usual. 


TAKING A STAND. 


211 


She attracted even more attention than the youth- 
ful pair who, it was now known, were soon to be mar- 
ried ; and the other pair, still younger, who were to- 
day, to take their places in Christ’s ranks. 

Mr. Case preached a sermon that was long remem- 
bered, — a sermon on practical Christianity, with 
these words for his text, “ Whether therefore ye 
eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory 
of God ; ” and his clear, strong words, setting forth 
our duty so plainly, seemed to brace his congregation 
for truer work, as a fresh autumn breeze braces us 
after the languor of summer. 

It was exactly what Bert needed, and he listened 
to every word with an attention that could not be 
distracted. Then came the simple ceremony by which 
these two, with a few others, took upon themselves 
the solemn vows of their church, and gave themselves 
wholly to a life of Christian duty ; followed by the 
holy communion, and the quiet walk homewards. 

Miss Patty and Jacqueline always dined at the 
Leavenworth house on Sundays, and to-day, George 
being also present, it was a very happy meal. 

Jacqueline liked George thoroughly, and could see 
that he had an excellent influence over Bert ; for he 
was not only a warm, true-hearted Christian, but a 
wide-awake, active, progressive young man, for whom 
every one had great respect. So, when, after dinner, 


212 


TRANSPLANTED. 


as the younger people strolled into the garden, he 
came and walked by her side, she greeted him with a 
bright smile, though wondering a little that he should 
have left Arlene even for a moment. 

“And now, Jacqueline,” he said, in a matter-of-fact 
tone, “ what is to be your branch of the service ? ” 
“My branch of” — looking up surprisedly. “I 
don’t understand.” 

He smiled. 

“When people enter the service of a king they 
generally have special plans and duties ; haven’t you 
any ? ” 

Jacqueline understood now, — 

“ I don’t know,” she said with hesitation. “ Of 
course I must do my best to learn, and be careful of 
grandma and Aunt Patty, and attentive at church and 
Sunday-school.” 

“ And is that all ? ” 

“Why, what else could I do ? ” 

“Something, I think. You know, Jacqueline, I 
have heard your whole story, and I can’t help feeling 
you have been through such special training for some 
special purpose.” 

Jacqueline looked astonished, but her eyes kindled 
too. This was a new and wonderful thought. Might 
it indeed be that she could make of her hateful past 
a stepping-stone to God’s higher work ? Had it been, 


TAKING A STAND. 


213 


in some sort, a training-school for some future post 
which He had reserved for her ? 

It was a thought that almost took her breath away, 
but filled her with a strange, new joy as well. She 
looked eagerly in his face, and he continued, — 

“Jacqueline, it is very seldom that one has known 
such extremes of life as you, especially while still 
young enough to have a future. You have known 
intimately the feelings, wants, and temptations of 
the lowest, poorest class, and now are learning how 
these same feelings affect the wealthy and well- 
born. 

“You don’t know, as I do, how impossible it has 
always seemed to bring rich and poor together, in any 
sort of sympathy, for each distrusts the other ; and 
one is apt to give daintily, at arm’s-length, while the 
other clutches greedily, without gratitude or ap- 
preciation. Perhaps you, with your experience, could 
be a link between the two. It would be a grand 
work ! 99 

Jacqueline listened with kindling eyes, and he 
continued, — 

“You are still a mere girl, and have your time 
pretty thoroughly occupied ; but there is plenty of 
work around you, even in this town. To begin with, 
there is this Y. M. C. A. ; why shouldn’t it include 
and help to save the poorer young men here, as well 


214 


TRANSPLANTED. 


as those of the upper classes, who are now its only 
members ? ” 

“ But what can I do ? 99 

Jacqueline’s voice was almost a whisper. 

“You and Bert could do a good deal together, and 
he will always follow you. Besides, one has but to 
long for opportunities and they always come. You 
have never read George MacDonald, or Emerson ? 
The former says, ( We must be before we can do ; one 
can not act until he is in a right condition for action ; ’ 
and the latter, ‘ Be and not seem, , for pretension may 
sit still, but can not act.’ Be ready, then, Jacqueline, 
be charitable, in the full sense of the word, as given 
in the thirteenth chapter of Corinthians ; be alert and 
true, and God will use you when he wishes, for you 
will be fitted to his use.” 

He bowed slightly, and passing on, joined Arlene 
and Bert, who were discussing the grapes on a partic- 
ular vine ; but Jacqueline had received the seed into 
good ground, and her heart was filled with an eager 
desire to place herself in the hands of her Creator, to 
be, or do, whatever he might desire. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE Y. M. C. A. ENTERTAINMENT. 

“ Jacqueline! Jaca! Are you ready ?” came 
Bert’s call up the cottage stair-case. 

“ In a minute. Is Bessie there ? ” 

“Yes. Grandma sent the carriage, and says to 
wrap up warm, it’s so chilly to-night. Oh, how lovely 
you look ! ” as Jacqueline appeared, tripping lightly 
down the stair-way in her pretty evening dress. 

“ Are you all right, Aunt Patty ? ” she asked, as 
her bright face peeped through the parlor door. 
Then entering, she drew the light stand a trifle closer 
to the good lady’s elbow, and pushing a stool under 
her feet, stooped to kiss her affectionately. “You 
won’t be lonely, aunty ? ” 

“ No indeed, dear. Hannah will come in here and 
sit, when she’s through with her work. Good-night ; 
I hope you’ll have a delightful time, and make lots of 
money,” and Jacqueline was off. 

It was the night of the Y. M. C. A. entertainment, 
and for a fortnight all the young people had been 
busy preparing for it. The large town hall had been 
turned into a bower by means of flags, bunting, ever- 
215 


216 


TRANSPLANTED. 


greens, and flowers, while a tempting literary and 
musical program had been prepared, as well as an 
art display, in which our friends were all much inter- 
ested. Jacqueline had been chosen to attend here 
and explain the various articles loaned for the occa- 
sion, while Charlie Talbot, in artist’s costume, was to 
sit and pretend to paint at one of the easels. 

The regular rostrum, a large one, had been in- 
closed by curtains, and hung with crimson, to form 
this art-gallery, — a temporary platform being built 
out in front for the other part of the performance, — 
and was elaborately fitted up, mostly from the long- 
gathered stores of the Leavenworth and Randall 
houses. The floor had been first covered with dark- 
colored canvas, upon which costly rugs and furs were 
laid, a part of the two sides being filled in by a low, 
wide divan, richly covered. 

Upon the crimson-draped walls, and several easels, 
were arranged pictures, bannerets, and drapings, of 
all grades of excellence, every one, however, being 
the work of home talent. These were in pencil, 
crayon, sepia, india-ink, water-colors, oils and pastels, 
— on satin, ivorine, plush, bolting-cloth, crash, wood, 
paper, and canvas ; while a cabinet or two of mineral 
specimens, one of china and Japanese ware, a small 
case of rich laces, and another of rare fans, were placed 
among a dazzling profusion of embroideries and fancy 


THE Y. M. C. A. ENTERTAINMENT . 217 


needle-work of every description, making a really 
artistic and elegant collection ; not a specimen from 
out of town being admitted. 

To this “ Museum of Fine Arts,” as Bert loved to 
call it, our special friends had contributed many speci- 
mens of work, and, with the help of three or four 
others, had arranged and managed it entirely. 

Lou had been active in helping, too, for she was 
very deft in all kinds of fancy-work, having excellent 
taste, and any amount of energy. She had, indeed, 
privately expected to be placed in charge of it, and 
felt more chagrined than she would have cared to 
show when, by a vote of the “ Aid Society,” Jacque- 
line was given the position. 

This choice was just, for several reasons : Jacque- 
line could not yet help in either the recitations or music, 
so would have been quite left out if not given this 
post ; while Lou was to sing a solo, and in a quartette, 
and play several accompaniments ; besides, Jacque- 
line’s and Bert’s work formed the largest part of the 
display, and the fittings of the rostrum were nearly 
all their contribution. Bessie, being a first-rate elo- 
cutionist, was to be kept busy ; while Bert’s fine tenor 
voice was in demand for nearly every song. 

As Jacqueline, after removing her wraps in the 
cloak-room, entered the improvised studio, she gave 
it a comprehensive, delighted glance. 


218 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“How beautiful it is in this mellow light,” she 
thought, and placed the wide, flat basket of flowers 
she had brought, where it would be most effective, 
little imagining that her own fair presence really lent 
the room its finishing grace. Then she peeped be- 
tween the curtains, and was delighted to see that, 
though the hall already seemed comfortably full, the 
people were still coming ir^ with no abatement of the 
steady stream. Charlie’s voice interrupted her, and 
she turned pleasantly to greet him. 

He was a handsome, dark-eyed youth, with a more 
genial manner than his sister’s, and a great favorite 
with all. 

“ A good house, isn’t it ? ” he asked gayly, seating 
himself on the edge of the divan, “ I suppose you 
and I won’t have any thing to do until the intermission, 
will we ? ” 

“No,” said Jacqueline, “not even then; but 
they’ll probably pour in when the exercises are 
over.” 

She was looping back a bit of drapery as she spoke, 
and he sat idly watching her, as she gave deft little 
touches here and there, thinking how well her white 
wool dress, with its statuesque folds, looked against 
the crimson background, when the cloak-room beyond 
was suddenly filled by a bevy of performers, who had 
just arrived, and soon began overflowing into the 


THE Y. M. C. A. ENTERTAINMENT. 219 


studio, bustling about in such a way as to threaten 
the frail works of art with utter destruction. 

“ Now this will never do ! ” cried Charlie, in his 
good-natured way. “ We won’t be fit for visitors if 
you don’t keep out. Come, vamose ! skedaddle ! 
shoo — o ! ” and he drove them merrily back into the 
cloak-room and the passage-way which led to the im- 
provised rostrum, Jacqueline, meanwhile, looking on 
and laughing with amusement. 

They went good-naturedly enough, with the excep- 
tion of Lou, who was altogether in an ill-humor. 
Something about her dress had gone wrong, while 
she had taken just enough cold to make her usually 
fine voice rough and husky for singing. 

So she said crossly, — 

“ Be still, Charlie ! How ridiculous you are to put 
on such airs, as if this studio belonged to you and 
Jacqueline, when every body knows you were both 
put here, only because you couldn’t do any thing 
else ! ” 

“For shame, Lou!” cried Charlie, giving a quick 
glance towards Jacqueline, who had flushed hotly at 
the cruel taunt — especially cruel in her case, because 
so thoroughly true, and so acutely felt ; for J acque- 
line was still far behind her mates in all studies 
and every accomplishment, except drawing, which 
seemed almost second nature to her. “You know 


220 


TRANSPLANTED. 


perfectly well you’d give your eyes to have this place 
yourself, and that’s what makes you so hateful about 
it ! Jacqueline, I wouldn’t mind a word she says.” 

But Jacqueline did mind, and looked after Lou’s 
scornful, retreating figure as if she were about to 
spring forward, and answer her in kind; then she 
checked herself, and the flush slowly died away. She 
had remembered George Harper’s words just in time ; 
she must be before she could do. 

“ And if I’m not able to control myself, how can I 
expect to help others ? ” asked her instinctive good 
sense. 

She turned to Charlie, — 

“Is it true that Lou would have liked to be in 
here ? ” 

“ Oh, of course,” he said carelessly ; “ Lou always 
wants the best place, but I didn’t think she’d show it 
so plainly — hark ! they’re beginning ; that’s Fannie 
Gilbert’s and Gene Graham’s piano and flute duet ; 
they play well, don’t they?” and as Jacqueline 
seemed listening quietly, he hoped she had forgotten. 

But she had not. She was only thinking deeply. 
By and by she said, — 

“ Charlie, it seems foolish to waste all the evening 
in here, doesn’t it ? I’ve a great mind to put on my 
things and go out into the audience.” 

“ And leave me alone ? ” asked Charlie dubiously. 


THE Y. M. C. A. ENTERTAINMENT. 221 


She laughed. 

“ There’s only a plank between you and civiliza- 
tion ! ” tapping the cloak-room door as she disap- 
peared behind it. 

The audience-room was so crowded that she had to 
go far down the hall before she could find a seat, 
which was then only a camp-stool in the aisle, with 
nobody about her that she knew. Just behind her, 
on the ledge of a window, were two young men, older 
than Bert, and of much rougher appearance. They 
were commenting freely upon the entertainment, and 
as Lou and three other young people smilingly retired 
after singing an encore, one remarked, — 

“Yes, it’s lots o’ fun fur them big-bugs; they 
always like to show off ; but why don’t they own up 
that it is fun, and nothin’ else, ’stid of always pur- 
tending they’re tryin’ to help somebody ? ” 

“ Well, they are,” said another, “ the Y. M. C. A.’s.” 

“Bosh ! ” returned the former, “ what’s the good o’ 
them dudes, anyhow ? There ’tis again ! They pur- 
tend they’re helping somebody, too, and so it goes ; 
and all they do is to hold meetings, and fix up their 
rooms for their own folks to go to.” 

“ They invite every body ; you and me as well’s the 
rest, Sam.” 

“Yes, but they don’t want us, with our old clo’es, 
and rough ways. Don’t I know ? I tell you, I went 


222 


TRANSPLANTED. 


once, and the fine fellers that was readin’ and playin’ 
chess looked at me as much as to say, ‘ What you 
want here ? ’ and I was glad to sneak out like a 
licked cur. No, thank you ; gimme Dobbs’s every 
time.” 

Jacqueline knew what “ Dobbs’s” was — a low 
groggery, much frequented by factory people, and of 
a decidedly disreputable character. 

Here, then, was a case where the rich and poor 
failed to understand each other ; the former honestly 
trying to serve the latter, whose sensitive pride 
winced under the very effort. Such ought not to be the 
case, if this effort were rightly carried out. J acque- 
line almost forgot Lou’s taunt as she began to puzzle 
over this question, still asking, “ What can I do ? ” 
until she felt a touch on her shoulder. It was Bert, 
who exclaimed, half impatiently, “ Why, Jaca, what 
are you doing here ? We’ve been looking high and 
low. The exercises are most over, and they’ll be 
pouring into your art-room before you know it. 
Charlie’s about distracted ! ” 

Jacqueline sprang up quickly. - 
“ I’ll come at once ; wait, Bert ! ” as he began to 
elbow a way through the crowded aisle ; then, while 
he looked on wonderingly, she stepped to the window- 
ledge, and, with a modest blush, said pleasantly, — 
“We are going to exhibit our art-studio now ; won’t 


THE Y. M. C. A. EN TER TA IN ME NT. 223 


you come and see it ? I think there are some 
things you would enjoy, even if they are by home 
talent.” 

Only a modest little invitation, such as any pretty 
girl might give to a couple of young gentlemen, but it 
acted like magic upon them. 

Instantly their swaggering manner was exchanged 
for polite attention, as they straightened up and 
bowed ; and one said heartily, “ Thank you, ma’am,” 
while the other added, “ With much pleasure.” 

“ She’s that girl to Leavenworths’,” whispered our 
first speaker, as Jacqueline disappeared with her 
brother. “ Ain’t she a beauty ? ” 

“ Yes, and better’n all, she’s good, too,” added the 
other heartily. “ Come, let’s go look at this art busi- 
ness ” — and for a time “ Dobbs’s ” attractions were 
forgotten. 

Meanwhile, Jacqueline followed Bert into the 
cloak-room, where, hastily throwing aside her wraps, 
she went up to Lou, who sat talking with Mr. Kline, 
the music-master and manager of that part of the en- 
tertainment. 

“Lou,” she said pleasantly, “I’m afraid we’re 
going to have such a crowd I can’t attend to them all ; 
would you be kind enough to help me ? There’ll be 
so many asking questions, all at once.” 

Lou looked up quickly. 


224 


TRANSPLANTED . 


“You don’t want me,” she said brusquely, “Bessie’s 
somewhere about.” 

“But I asked you, Lou — it would be a great ac- 
commodation,” and Jacqueline’s smile was too frank 
and sweet to harbor any malice. 

Lou rose. 

“ Are you in earnest ? ” she asked, in a lower voice, 
looking keenly at Jacqueline. 

“ Certainly ! Come,” and she hurried her to her 
place. 

When the curtain rose, Lou was conspicuous near 
the front, while Jacqueline stood quite in the back- 
ground, and Bert, seeing it, felt quite indignant. 

“ That pushing girl ! ” he thought angrily, “ she’s 
too much for Jacqueline ! ” but could say nothing 
then. 

Soon Lou showed she was in her element, as differ- 
ent questions were thrown at her by the surging 
crowd. “ What kind of work is that ? ” “ Who did 

this ? ” “ Is that in pastel, or crayons ? ” “ Do tell 

me what that lovely design is for ?” etc., etc. — to, 
all of which she, with flushed cheeks and delighted 
air, gave quick responses, while Jacqueline only now 
and then was heard to answer. 

At length a refined, indeed noble-looking, gentleman, 
accompanied by two ladies, stopped before a large 
frame full of small pen and ink drawings, labeled 


THE Y. M. C. A. EN TER TA IN MEN T. 225 


“ Five minute sketches,” in which were bits of home 
life, vividly portrayed. Two or three figures often 
occurred in them, one of which, in cap a little awry, 
and glasses pushed above the forehead, was both 
graphic and quaint. 

“ Whose are these ? ” asked the gentleman, exam- 
ining them intently, “ they show more real merit than 
any thing else in the collection ; whose are they ? ” 

Jacqueline appeared not to hear, but Lou stepped 
briskly forward. 

“ Those,” she said quite loudly, “are by Miss Jacque- 
line Amory, Mrs. Leavenworth’s grand-daughter, and 
are from nature. She is the most talented artist we 
have among us; for she does far better work, though 
she has taken very few lessons.” 

There was a ring of real heartiness in her tone, and 
the gentleman, bowing graciously, said with a smile, — 

“ Thank you : it is evident you can appreciate true 
merit, for such these sketches certainly show ; ” and 
he passed on. 

There was a little buzz of voices. 

“ It’s the artist, Mr. C.,” said one. “ He has just 
returned from Europe, where he had a painting on 
exhibition at the last salon. It was a great compli- 
ment.” 

As Jacqueline turned away her blushing face, she 
found herself opposite the two young men whom she 


226 


TRANSPLANTED. 


had invited here, and, as if involuntarily, they bowed 
and smiled in a congratulatory way. 

“ Have you noticed these Japanese figures?” she 
asked quickly, to cover her embarrassment, and soon 
had forgotten it in her efforts to make them feel sat- 
isfied and at home. 

She even neglected two or three gentlemen just be- 
yond, among whom was Mr. Case, but he did not seem 
to mind it at all ; for, as she finally found time to an- 
swer their inquiries, he found means to whisper, — 

“ That’s right, Miss Jacqueline. I see you go to 
the bottom of things, and really understand just what 
people this entertainment is designed to help. I 
wish I had more workers like you ! Too many forget 
the substance in the glitter and fuss.” 

When the evening was ended she met Lou face to 
face in the passage-way back of the cloak-room, where 
for a moment, they were quite alone. 

She stopped and impulsively held out her hand. 

“ Lou, it was very nice of you to praise my work,” 
she said eagerly. 

“ Not at all ! It was only the truth ; but I confess 
I wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t just the dearest, 
best girl in the world ! ” and the heartiness of the kiss 
she gave Jacqueline this time was not feigned. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


a year’s events. 

The year passed bringing its usual changes, happy 
and sad. Among the former was Arlene’s marriage, 
'which took place about Christmas time. It was a quiet 
wedding, but very delightful for all that. About 
fifty friends assembled in the large drawing-room at 
eleven o’clock one morning, where, under a lovely 
dove with spread wings, formed of white camellias, 
.carnations, and roses, Mr. Case tied the nuptial knot. 
Jacqueline stood with a brother of George’s, Carl Har- 
per, at present a student at Yale, and Bessie with 
Bert as her attendant, and a fine-looking set of 
young people they were ! 

Mrs. Kenneth was also present, being a guest at 
the cottage during holiday-week, and felt a thrill of 
pride as she saw her former charge in such changed 
circumstances, and seeming to deserve them so well. 

After congratulations, there was a delicious little 
breakfast, and at high noon the newly-wedded pair 
took the train for a southern trip ; first to Florida, 
thence across country to Hew Orleans, and home by 
way of Louisville, etc. They were gone several 
227 


228 


TRANSPLANTED. 


weeks, and had a merry home-coming ; a large even- 
ing reception, and many pleasant “ coffees,” “ high- 
teas,” and so on, among the friends at home. 

Then things settled back into their usual quiet 
regularity once more, for Arlene was still to remain 
with her mother, who could not well spare her, George 
going in to business daily, and coming home by the 
6:20 train. 

Jacqueline was daily growing in body, mind, and 
soul, and ripening fast into a lovely woman. 

Her grandmother had become so dotingly fond of 
her that Bert sometimes laughingly declared Jaca 
had put his nose quite out of joint ; but he never really 
felt so, for his own love for her was too great to har- 
bor the least jealousy. 

Miss Patty was gradually failing in health, as all 
could see ; the severe rheumatic twinges of the win- 
ter left her weak and languid, and as the heats of 
summer came on she seemed to have little strength 
left. One day she sent for Mr. Randall, and had a 
long talk with him, which resulted in his coming 
again next day with a lawyer, and when Jacqueline 
came home from school they were just leaving the 
house. 

She bowed in response to their salutations, and 
watched them a little wonderingly as they passed 
down the street, but Jacqueline was not a curious 


A YEAR'S EVENTS. 


229 


girl and seldom asked questions, so had soon quite 
forgotten the matter in absorbing school-duties, for 
examinations were soon coming on. 

Daily Miss Patty failed, until at length she was 
often confined to her bed ; but she suffered no pain 
now, and seemed quite content to lie quietly listening 
to her friends, as they read to her, or talked softly 
around her bed. Either Mrs. Leavenworth or Arlene, 
came every day, as well as other friends and neigh- 
bors; and the young people put aside many gayer 
pleasures to keep her company. 

She still kept up a keen interest in all their doings, 
and when Bert’s graduating-day came, insisted that she 
was able to attend the exercises, which were to be 
held in the town-hall. For days they had all been 
kept busy, even with extra help, to furnish the floral 
decorations ; but Miss Patty insisted that the choicest 
flowers should be reserved for “ that dear boy,” and 
with her own hands fashioned an exquisite open book, 
all of tiny rosebuds and violets, to be presented when 
he appeared on the rostrum. 

When Bert found she was determined to go, he had 
Jim carry one of his grandmother’s easy chairs over 
to the hall, and place it near the rostrum ; and here, 
between Mrs. Leavenworth and Arlene, the dear old 
lady listened proudly ; while Jim, in the cloak-room, 
kept guard over a tray-full of baskets, bouquets, etc., 


230 


TRANSPLANTED. 


with which to deluge the young graduate at the proper 
moment. 

And really this floral tribute was deserved, for 
Bert’s address was keen, sparkling, and original, 
thoroughly committed, and well delivered ; while 
he bore off the prizes for Greek and mathe- 
matics. 

Lou Talbot was also a graduate (as well as seven 
others whom we do not know) and acquitted herself 
well, her composition being in a satirical vein, with 
a good many apt local hits. Lou was now Jacque- 
line’s firm friend, for this girl never did things by 
halves, and when she liked a person would stand by 
her through good and evil report. She had indeed 
greatly improved in character, for since she had been 
ready to acknowledge herself so mistaken once, she 
was less hasty in judging by the mere outward appear- 
ance of those whom she met. 

After the compositions and addresses, the graduates 
sang a pretty class-song, composed by one of their 
number ; then the diplomas were awarded, with a few 
congratulatory words by Mr. Bandall, the president 
of the school-board. This concluded the formal ex- 
ercises. Then came a social half-hour of visiting, 
congratulations, music, etc., in the midst of which 
Jacqueline discovered that Miss Patty looked very 
tired, and asked if Jim might take them home in the 


A YEAR'S EVENTS . 


281 


carriage at once, to which of course her grandmother 
assented. 

Arrived at the cottage, Jacqueline hurried to get her 
into bed, for she seemed very faint ; but after resting 
a little while, she smiled brightly, and said she felt 
“ all right.” 

But she scarcely touched her supper, and seemed 
so inclined to sleep that when Bert and Bessie came 
over in the evening, to talk about the day’s doings, 
they sat out-of-doors, and kept their voices carefully 
subdued, not to disturb her. 

Latterly, Jacqueline had slept on a cot in the 
small room adjoining hers, to be ready in case she 
should need any thing in the night, but she was 
seldom called upon. It was very warm this night, 
and she felt half tempted to go into her own more 
comfortable chamber, but finally concluded to lie 
down here for a time, at least. 

She had dropped into the first heavy slumber of 
girlhood when the quick tinkle of Miss Patty’s bell 
sounded amid her dreams, and, bounding up, still 
half asleep, she stumbled to her bedside, to find her 
looking very pale in the dim light. 

“You may wake Hannah,” she said in a weak 
voice, but quite composedly, and, both wondering and 
fearing, Jacqueline hastened to do so. 

Then, running back, she poured out some of the 


232 


TRANSPLANTED. 


cordial kept for emergencies, and raising the gray 
head from the pillow, said gently, — 

“ Drink it, aunty ; you seem faint.” 

She drank obediently and as Jacqueline laid her 
back, whispered, — 

“ Dear child ! what a comfort you’ve been ! ” 

Then her eyes closed over her white cheeks, and 
her breath seemed labored. Jacqueline turned ap- 
pealingly to Hannah, who had just entered. 

“ She seems very bad — what can we do ? Hadn’t 
you better wake one of the neighbors, and send for 
the doctor ? ” 

Hannah gave the sick face an intent look. 

“ Yes, I had. I’ll be right back! ” and she hurried 
out. 

Miss Patty’s eyes opened again, as Jacqueline bent 
over her, chafing the cold hands. 

“ Don’t worry, dear ! It’s only going higher ! ” she 
said, brokenly. “ You’ve done your best — God bless 
you ! ” and the eyelids dropped, a tremor passed over 
the body, the lips opened with a gasp — and Miss 
Patty’s soul had fled. 

Jacqueline did not realize this, however. 

“ Oh, she is fainting,” she thought, and chafed the 
hands more briskly, till Hannah came in. 

She first bent over the lifeless body a moment, then 
took Jacqueline’s arm and led her gently away. 


A TEAKS EVENTS. 


233 


“It’s no use, Miss Jacqueline, she’s gone!” she 
said, solemnly. 

“ Gone ? gone ? ” cried the poor girl, not fully com- 
prehending, “ what do you mean ? ” 

“ She’s dead, child, quite dead ; nothing can help 
her, now,” and the burst of grief that followed 
showed how little prepared Jacqueline was for such 
an event. 

Soon the doctor arrived, only to confirm Hannah’s 
decision ; then word was sent to the Leavenworths, 
and George, Arlene, and Bert were quickly on hand. 
After a little, however, they gently urged Jacqueline 
home with Arlene, leaving the others to see to the 
last sad offices for the dead — for it was decided the 
funeral should take place from the cottage, the home 
to which she had so persistently clung, and which she 
would only leave to go to her last resting-place. 

The day of her burial was warm and showery, yet 
the house and front yard were full of those who came 
to honor the large-hearted, lonely woman, who, having 
no ties of kindred, was yet a friend to all humanity. 

They laid her in the Leavenworth lot just opposite 
the grave which had received the recovered remains 
of poor Celia Amory, and as Mr. Case feelingly re- 
ferred to the lately living woman, who had so well 
filled the place of the dead mother, few eyes were 
dry. 


234 


TRANSPLANTED. 


It was a terrible shock to Jacqueline, and she did 
not get over it for weeks. Indeed, she seemed so 
pale and drooping in her black clothes, that her 
grandmother grew alarmed, and one day, about a fort- 
night later, when the girl had just gone languidly 
from the room, leaving Mrs. Leavenworth and Arlene 
over their sewing, the former said abruptly, — 

“ Arlene, I don’t like Jacqueline’s looks at all !” 

“Nor I, mother. She has grown fast, this year, 
besides studying hard, and this sad shock seems to 
have sapped all the strength she had left.” 

“ Yes, it is true. I wish we could take her to the 
mountains.” 

“ And why not, mother ? ” 

“ Only my laziness, I suppose. I’m so wedded to 
my own home ; and you, I suppose, wouldn’t leave 
George ? ” 

“ I should dislike to. He doesn’t feel he can take 
more than a week or so this summer, and we were 
going to run down to the beach for that. The Tiltons 
have asked us to their cottage — still, if you wish it, 
I could, of course ; but why don’t you let them go 
alone ? ” 

“ Who ? Jacqueline and Bert ? ” 

“ Yes ; they’re old enough, and have a good deal of 
discretion. We could make all necessary arrange- 
ments by letter.” 


A TEAR’S EVENTS. 


235 


“Well, that’s an idea, certainly ! It’s not a long 
journey, and every tiling in traveling is so simplified 
nowadays. Possibly Mr. Randall and Bessie would 
go.” 

“ Unless he carries out that California scheme.” 

“ Yes — of course that would interfere,” — and Mrs. 
Leavenworth relapsed into thoughtfulness. 

Meanwhile Hannah had been kept at the cottage, 
to look after it and the greenhouse, until further ar- 
rangements could be made, though Jacqueline had 
never been back there except to attend the funeral. 

One morning, to her astonishment, she was sum- 
moned to the library, and found her grandmother, 
with Mr. Randall and their lawyer, sitting apparently 
in solemn conclave. 

The former said as she entered, — 

“ Mr. Smails, this is my grandchild, Miss Amory,” 
and the lawyer bowed politely as Jacqueline slipped 
into a seat. 

Her grandmother continued, — 

“ My dear, these gentlemen have come to read Miss 
Patty’s will, and thought you would like to hear it ; ” 
and soon, amid a confusion of “ whereases,” “ afore- 
saids,” “to wits,” etc., Jacqueline began to under- 
stand that she was left sole inheritor of all Miss 
Patty had died possessed of — viz., one house and lot 
(which, by the description, she would never have 


236 


TRANSPLANTED. 


guessed to be the cottage and its surroundings), as 
well as all personal property, and other means, con- 
sisting of a mortgage, and some bank funds, to the 
amount of a few thousand dollars. 

“ Is it all mine ? ” asked J acqueline wonderingly, 
as Mr. Smails folded up the document, and turned 
smilingly towards her. 

“ There will be nobody to dispute it, I think, Miss 
Amory.” 

“ But what shall I do with it ? ” 

He laughed with evident enjoyment of this 
naivete. 

“ People do not usually find difficulty in disposing 
of money ; the question oftener is how to get it to 
spend ! ” 

Jacqueline blushed. 

“But grandma never lets me feel any such want. 
I wish ” — 

“Well, what do you wish, child ?” asked Mrs. 
Leavenworth. 

“ It would be so nice just to do for others with this 
money ; it would please Aunt Patty so, wouldn’t it, 
grandma ? ” 

“ I think it would, my darling, and I’m very glad 
you have thought of any thing so unselfish. We can 
plan about all that later; meanwhile, Mr. Randall 
(who, as you notice, is your trustee and guardian) 


A YEAR’S EVENTS. 


237 


knows of a young man who would like to rent the 
cottage, and keep up the greenhouse.” 

“ Yes,” said that gentleman, “ he is under-foreman 
at Platt’s Mills, and a steady, honest fellow, and has 
lately married a Mary Blake who used to work for us, 
and who, Mrs. Feegles says, was a nice, tidy, little 
body. I really don’t think you could do better.” 

“ Oh, I’ll let you manage all that,” laughed Jacque- 
line, with some embarrassment, and the conclave 
broke up. 

But, next day she was again summoned to the 
library, and there, with Mr. Randall, stood the very 
young man who had been at the art entertainment a 
year ago, not the rather belligerent Sam, but the more 
quiet of the two. He bowed politely, hat in hand, as 
he said, — 

“Miss Amory, my name is John Treat, and I am 
the man who would like to rent your cottage.” 

It made Jacqueline feel queer enough to be thus 
deferred to, and after a deprecatory glance towards 
Mr. Randall, she said, — 

“ I believe that is all right, and I’m glad it’s you, 
Mr. Treat. I remember you well.” 

He colored with pleasure. 

“Thank you, Miss Amory. Mary and I’ll take 
good care of it, for your sake if for nothing else, for 
we know how much you’ve done to help this town.” 


238 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“I ? ” Jacqueline’s eyes opened widely. 

“Yes, ina’am. Every body says it’s largely you 
and your brother that makes the Y. M. C. A. so differ- 
ent from what it used to be, for now we working-men 
are made as welcome as anybody. Then, all of us 
mill-folks know how good you were to poor little 
Jenny Jones that time she got hurt in the machinery ; 
and how you sewed for that drunken Pat Flynn’s 
youngsters, so’s to keep ’em in school last winter, till 
the man’s actually getting ashamed of himself, and 
beginning to be somebody. And I know, too, that 
you’re the one that made me feel less bitter towards 
these rich folks, and sometimes I think my talks to 
the boys had something to do in staving off that strike 
last January. You’ve got a good name among us 
poor folks, miss.” 

Sudden tears sprang to Jacqueline’s eyes, and in- 
voluntarily she stepped forward and held out her 
hand. 

“You know I was poor myself once, very poor, 
till good Miss Barnes took me, and I found my 
friends ; so I know that there is really no difference 
between the poor and rich, except such as pride and 
envy make. Christ died for us all, and honored the 
poor by being one of them, when he lived on earth.” 

“That’s so,” said John with interest, “I never 
thought of that,” and then the talk went back to busi- 


A YEAR’S EVENTS. 


239 


ness, but Jacqueline had won a life-long friend in 
honest John Treat of Platt’s Mills. 

A few days later, as Jacqueline and Bert were 
walking in the garden after supper, admiring the pro- 
fusion of flowers in bloom, their grandmother left 
George and his wife on the piazza, and came down to 
join them. 

Each lovingly offered an arm, and as she paced 
slowly between them, she said, — 

“What do you children say to a mountain 
trip ? ” 

“ Oh, grandma ! that would be fine,” cried Bert, and 
Jacqueline looked up with a brighter smile than she 
had worn for some time. 

“ I’ve always longed to see the mountains nearer,” 
she said, looking wistfully off to their shadowy forms 
against the horizon. 

“Well, then, what do you say to going alone ? ” 

“ Alone ? We two ? Why, grandma ! ” 

“Yes, Bert. I really don’t feel as if I cared to 
leave my own comfortable quarters, and Arlene 
wouldn’t leave George. I see no reason why you 
couldn’t go alone.” 

“ Not the least,” said Bert eagerly, “ I can take 
care of Jaca perfectly well.” 

So it was arranged, and they hastened over to tell 
Bessie. 


240 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Oh, papa/’ she cried, “ how I wish I could go, too. 
Why don’t you take me ? ” 

“Well, to tell the truth, Queenie, I’m daily expect- 
ing a permit to join the governmental exploring party 
that’s to visit certain parts of California. I’d thought 
I could take you and Mrs. Feegles, and leave you at 
Los Angeles, perhaps, while we men went into the 
wilds.” 

“Yes, but — does Mrs. Feegles want to go ? ” 

“ Oh, you know how she dreads traveling, as well 
as I do, but of course, she wouldn’t let you stay there 
all alone so long.” 

“Then — do, papa, let me go with Bert and Jaca — 
do ! I should be too forlorn for any thing, away off 
among strangers so — and you’ll be gone a good while, 
won’t you ? ” 

“ Perhaps three weeks in the wilderness, besides 
what time I intended to give in trotting about with 
you. But I don’t know, — this might be the better 
plan,” and, after considerable talk, it was decided to 
be so. 

One delightful afternoon, Jacqueline, feeling inclined 
for a stroll, found herself rather aimlessly headed 
towards the cottage, and with a half-dread, half-eager- 
ness, to see it again, kept on until she had reached 
the gate. 

To her relief, for she would have been pained to 


A TEAR’S EVENTS. 


241 


see it look neglected — every thing seemed much 
as usual. The vines were neatly tied up, the turf 
smoothly mowed, and white curtains gently swayed 
in the open windows. As she slowly opened the 
gate, a light-hearted burst of song came from 
within; then the hall-door opened, and a nice-look- 
ing young woman, in a neat, light calico, stepped 
out upon the porch. She at once perceived 
Jacqueline, who had now reached the steps, and 
said, quickly, — 

“ Miss Amory ? ” 

J acqueline bowed her head. “ And you, I presume, 
are Mrs. Treat ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am, won’t you come in ? ” and she led 
the way, with alacrity, Jacqueline following in a sort 
of daze, so queer it seemed to be received as a guest, 
where she had so often bounded in, entirely and per- 
fectly at home. 

The tears filled her eyes, and when she had taken 
a seat in the parlor (still almost the same, for the 
cottage had been rented furnished), she was sobbing 
in her handkerchief. 

“Dear Miss Amory, I’m so sorry,” said the kind 
voice at her elbow, “ we’ve tried not to change any 
thing — John and I — and hoped it would seem like 
home to you.” 

“ It does,” sobbed Jacqueline, “ I had expected to 


242 


TRANSPLANTED. 


find it much changed ; ” and she dried her eyes, and 
tried to smile. 

Then little Mrs. T*eat, who was but a girl herself, 
hurried to tell how they enjoyed it all, and how well 
the garden prospered. 

“ But you must see the greenhouse,” she added ; 
“ that heliotrope is a perfect sight. It has over forty 
blossoms.” 

It was the very bush to which Miss Patty*had once 
compared her mother, and the memory of those words 
thrilled through Jacqueline as she rose to follow. 
Gradually she grew calmer, and then they took a slow 
ramble over house and grounds, noticing every thing, 
from the shelf John had put up in Jacqueline’s old 
bedroom (which they now occupied), to the last blos- 
som on the Gloire de Dijon rose-bush. 

“ It has been a dear old home to me,” said Jacque- 
line, as they returned to the parlor. “ I hope you and 
Mr. Treat will be happy here.” 

“Yes, I believe we will,” said the little wife ear- 
nestly, “for John’s a steady fellow, and earns good 
wages, and I try to bear my part, — Miss Amory, 
won’t you take off your hat and stay to supper with 
us ? John would be so proud.” 

Jacqueline saw she really meant it, so she only hesi- 
tated a minute. 

“ If you will not think it strange for me to go home 


A YEAR’S EVENTS. 


248 


directly afterwards. Grandma might worry, you see; 
besides, I have several last things to see to before we 
start for the mountains,” and she explained how they 
intended to leave next day. 

By and by Mary excused herself to go and get tea, 
and Jacqueline, picking up a book, was soon absorbed 
in its contents. 

John, coming up the path a little later, was sur- 
prised to see a dainty, black-robed figure swaying to 
and fro in a little rocker, with head bent over a book ; 
and slipping around the house before she noticed 
him, burst into the kitchen with the abrupt ques- 
tion, — 

“ Mary, is that Miss Amory on the porch ? ” 

“ Yes, John.” 

“ What in the world is she doing here ? ” 

“Why, John Treat! She is visiting us, to be 
sure.” 

“Visiting — us? You don’t tell me!” and the 
next minute he was going through a vigorous cleans- 
ing process, to make himself nice for the supper- 
table. 

It was a really neat little tea, and Jacqueline 
seemed so quietly at ease that she made the others 
so. 

She found John a clear-headed, sensible fellow, 
with a good knowledge of his work, and really enjoyed 


244 


TRANSPLANTED. 


her talk with the two. She took pains to give his 
wife all the information possible in regard to the 
care of the greenhouse, and left them afterwards with 
hearts aglow with pride and hope, and a most sincere 
admiration and respect for their little landlady. 


CHAPTEE XVII. 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 

There was a merry gathering in the station-house 
to see our three travelers off, several of the young 
people being present, as well as most of the older 
members of the two families. Mr. Eandall was bus- 
tling about, getting their tickets, and giving last in- 
structions ; while Arlene was talking more quietly 
with Jacqueline and Lou Talbot. Bert and Bessie, 
with the Gilberts, formed another group. 

Mrs. Leavenworth had said her good-bys at home, 
and George had been obliged to take an earlier train 
for the city ; but Jim was on hand, looking after their 
traps, his face on a broad grin, and his whole air one 
of elaborate concern. 

“ Hold on, Jim, that’s not mine,” cried Bert, as the 
fellow, hearing the whistle of the incoming train, 
caught up a stray valise, lying near. 

“ Beg pahdon. Mr. Bert, is this youahs, an’ whah’s 
Miss Jackleen’s ? ” 

“ Here they are,” cried Bert, “and here’s the train, 
at last,” and in a moment they were climbing aboard, 
245 


246 


TRANSPLANTED. 


shaking hands, and kissing good-bys amid the scramble 
for seats, till, with last merry words and waving of 
handkerchiefs, they were fairly off, en route for the 
White Mountains. 

They had found roomy seats in a chair car, and 
were soon comfortably disposed. Jacqueline, flushed 
with all this excitement, looked more like herself 
than for some time previously. She had had so very 
little experience in traveling that every thing was 
both novel and delightful to her, and for a time she 
only cared to sit still and take it all in, in her quiet 
self-contained way. 

But Bessie and Bert were full of fun and laughter, 
and, after a while, drew her into it in spite of herself, 
for Jacqueline was growing quick at repartee, and 
could hold her own even with Bessie. 

Their destination to-day took them to the north, 
and therefore, away from the city which was their 
usual point of departure, and the through train only 
stopped at the most important towns. 

At one of these a youth was helped into the car by 
two gentlemen, his pale face and halting walk show- 
ing that he was an invalid. 

After bidding him an affectionate good-by, the elder 
of these left the car, while the younger remained and 
carefully arranged every thing for his comfort. The 
boy, of about Bert’s age, leaned back wearily, and the 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


247 


young man soon had mixed a strong sling, whose odor 
filled the car, and held it to his lips. 

After drinking it greedily the youth seemed to feel 
better. A little color came into his face, and glancing 
about, he perceived our group of young people inter- 
estedly watching him. 

From that time on, his quiet scrutiny of their every 
movement was almost constant. He seemed to care 
nothing for the beautiful upland scenery through 
which their route now lay, but with head leaned back, 
and eyes half closed, gave his whole attention to 
them. 

They had left home soon after noon, and as it grew 
toward six o’clock Bert sent the porter for one of the 
handy little tables which, hooked into supports be- 
tween the broad windows, and covered with a clean 
towel, forms such a convenient place for private 
lunches. The girls set theirs out in a neat, tasty 
way, and the pressed chicken and dainty sandwiches, 
with a fancy pot of jam, and some cake, neatly boxed, 
were appetizing enough to tempt almost any palate. 

As Jacqueline turned from surveying her work, she 
noticed a wistful look in the sick boy’s eyes, which 
touched her ever-sympathetic heart, and leaning 
towards Bessie, with the pretense of handing her a 
Japanese napkin, said quickly, with a backward 
glance, — 


248 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Let’s ask him , we have more than enough.” 

Bessie shrugged her shoulders slightly. 

“All right, if you wish it, but he doesn’t look ap- 
petizing somehow.” 

“True enough,” added Bert, “but you shall have 
him if you like, Jaca. I’ll go ask him,” and stepping 
to the youth he gave his polite invitation. 

The boy’s chalky face colored slightly, as he 
said, — 

“ I believe we are well supplied, but — it looks very 
pleasant, and there’s room for four — would you let 
me bring some eatables ? Webber, won’t you hunt 
up something nice in our basket ? ” 

The young man smiled. 

“Certainly,” and as the boy feebly rose, added, 
“ let me help you, Arthur.” 

But he waved him back. 

“No, just give me my cane. I may lean a little on 
you, mayn’t I ? ” and Bert brought him gently to the 
others. 

“My name is Arthur Phelps,” he whispered quickly, 
before they reached the girls, and Bert thus intro- 
duced him, Bessie in turn presenting Bert. 

“We’re sorry we haven’t room for your friend,” 
began Jacqueline, but he cut her short. 

“ Oh, he’s no friend, only a sort of companion, doc- 
tor, etc. A poor medical student father picked up to 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


249 


look after me. He’s all right so long as he has a 
book.” 

He ate as daintily as a bird, but with a certain 
relish, quite ignoring however, the delicious fruit and 
Frenchy pasties that Webber brought at his request, 
but declaring the pressed chicken and delicately 
spread bread, the nicest he had ever tasted. 

“ I haven’t eaten so much in a month,” he exclaimed, 
with some animation, leaning back contentedly ; “ this 
is so different from hotel fare. It was kind of you to 
invite me. Webber ! ” 

“ Yes, sir,” and the pleasant-faced young man came 
forward. 

“ Why don’t you open a bottle of champagne ? 
That’s just the finish we need.” 

For an instant there was nothing said, then Jacque- 
line spoke up firmly, — 

“Not for us, thank you. We never touch wine.” 

“ Never touch wine ? How strange ! Why, I live 
on it ! Couldn’t get along without it. Never mind, 
Webber, they don’t care for it, and really I’ve eaten 
such a supper I don’t know that I do.” 

Webber retired with a relieved air, and soon their 
talk, from vague generalities, became more personal, 
and they found that all were headed for the same 
lovely spot, Jackson, New Hampshire, that charming- 
village in the very heart of the White Mountains, 


250 


TRANSPLANTED. 


with the most delightful drives branching from it in 
every direction. 

“ Where are you going to stop ? ” asked the stranger 
eagerly. 

“ We’ve engaged board at a private house,” said 
Bert. 

“Oh, pshaw, that’ll be dull as mud. Why don’t 
you go to Wentworth Hall, or some of those big 
hotels, where there’s some life and fun ? Do you 
stop at Fabyan’s, to-night ? ” 

“Yes,” said Bessie, adding spiritedly, “and we 
go to the private house because we like freedom and 
a good time better than fine clothes and fripperies.” 

He laughed carelessly. 

“Every one to his taste. I’m afraid it would be 
dull enough for me after the Richelieu ; father and I 
have always lived at a hotel. You see,” dropping his 
voice a little, “ I have no mother.” 

Jacqueline and Bert looked meaningly at each 
other, and Arthur, glancing at the former’s black 
dress, said quickly, — 

“Nor you, either ? ” 

“ No,” said Bert quietly. 

“ Nor I,” added Bessie, in the same low tone ; and 
the pathetic sense of their common bereavement 
seemed, somehow, to draw the four closer together. 

After a little, Arthur said, — 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


251 


“ Yon see I have been sick ? ” 

They bowed. 

“ It was from a wound.” 

“ A wound ! ” cried Bert, and the girls looked up in 
astonishment. 

“Yes, I shot myself.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” cried all. 

“ Accidentally, of course,” he added, with a smile. 
“ I got a notion that it was a very cute thing to carry 
a revolver, and father’s always so busy he didn’t 
realize how much of the time I had one about me. 
One day I was changing it from my outer coat to my 
hip pocket, and somehow it dropped and went off, 
shooting me through the leg. It splintered the bone 
slightly, but I’d have got off all right, if blood-poison- 
ing hadn’t set in ; but that came near finishing me ! ” 

Jacqueline shuddered, thinking of poor Nick. 

“I’m coming out all right,” Arthur went on, “but 
it’s kept me down for nearly five months, and it 
sometimes seems as if I never should get strong ! So 
now I’m going to try the mountains.” 

It was nine o’clock when they reached Fabyan’s, 
and the chill of the air, as well as the great, shadowy, 
heights all about them, told of the higher levels they 
had reached. 

There was something inexpressibly lonely in the 
outlook to Jacqueline, as they stepped from the train, 


252 


TRANSPLANTED. 


in spite of the bright lights and the murmur of gay 
voices in the hotel. For, under the silent stars, 
stood those equally silent and eternal mountains, 
known as the Presidential Range, of which Wash- 
ington is (as it should be) the highest, making a 
strange, weird, dense outline upon the sky at this 
time of night. 

The girls followed Bert into the great office, full of 
chattering groups of ladies and gentlemen gathered 
about the fire, — for though July, it was needed, — 
and, after registering, were shown to their rooms, 
that of the girls being next to Bert’s. 

“ Oh ! ” said J acqueline, as the porter set down 
their bags, and left them, “is this all the light we 
can have ? ” 

“ 1 suppose so ; 1 light of other days ’ with a ven- 
geance, isn’t it ? ” laughed Bessie, for their only 
illumination was from two candles, placed on brackets 
each side of the dressing table. 

“ And I wanted to write to grandma ! ” complained 
Jacqueline. 

“ Well, we can go into the reading-room for that ; 
all the public rooms are evidently well lighted.” 

So, as soon as they had removed a little of the dust 
of travel, they wandered down the stair-case, and first 
peeped into the long parlor, where there was a crowd 
of people. One musical group was gathered about the 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


253 


piano, others around card-tables, while some quietly 
read or conversed in corners. 

They took a promenade around the house on the 
broad veranda, nearly deserted now, as the even- 
ing was so chill, though a few young people prom- 
enaded like themselves, or, well-wrapped, swung 
in the hammocks, and rocked in the great arm- 
chairs. 

Through the windows they could see the ball-room, 
brightly lighted, while three or four musicians, on a 
small platform at one end, played for the dancers, — 
a merry crowd, — some in evening dress, but many in 
the picturesque mountain costume ; the girls in loose, 
short skirts, with untanned low shoes, the gentlemen 
in knickerbockers, and flannel blouses. 

“ Isn’t it pretty ? ” said Jacqueline, in round-eyed 
wonder. “ But dear me!, we must get off those 
letters.” 

So the three were soon quietly busy in the conven- 
ient reading-room, with its long table well supplied 
with guide-books, writing materials, and newspapers. 
Bert indited an epistle to George, and Bessie one to 
her father, besides Jacqueline’s first loving letter to 
her grandmother ; then, tired and sleepy, they were 
glad to go to bed. 

The next morning they were all up betimes, and 
out on the veranda, gazing with all their eyes at the 


254 


TRANSPLANTED. 


grandeur about them. Bert had brought a fine pair 
of field glasses, and they had soon singled out Mount 
Washington from the row of lofty peaks, and were 
looking through them at the long low buildings on 
its summit, which appear as much like a hen-coop as 
any thing, from this distance ; and watching also the 
vast wreaths of clouds, lower down, as they broke 
and dissolved before the brilliant morning sun. 

They were to make the ascent by rail, and, soon 
after breakfast, had taken their seats in the odd-look- 
ing car, pushed upward by the odder-looking engine, 
with the boiler at an angle of forty-five degrees (in 
order to be upon a level when on the incline) and a 
great central cog-wheel, which enables it to grip the 
parallel bar of the central rails, and thus climb its 
steep upward path. 

As they went higher and higher, a feeling of awe 
crept over the group, and the girls’ faces grew a little 
pale. By the time they reached that steep incline 
called “Jacob’s Ladder,” when the car seemed ad- 
vancing almost vertically, and they looked sheer 
down on either side upon trees that seemed like 
shrubs, and cruel jagged rocks which would be death 
to one who should fall upon them ; while, here and 
there, desolate-looking piles of stones, surmounted by 
a cross, showed where some poor traveler had wan- 
dered from the path and perished, Jacqueline 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


255 


clutched her slanting seat with both hands, and 
gazed distressfully at Bert. 

“Oh, will we ever get down again?” she whis- 
pered. 

“Why, Jaca, where’s all your bravery ? ” he asked, 
in return trying to look unconcerned, as he gently 
touched her hand. 

“I don’t know,” she answered, making an effort to 
smile, “ if a danger comes to me I can face it, but I 
hate to put myself in the way of it ; still, I suppose 
God is in the mountains as well as down below,” and 
steadying herself with this thought, she began once 
more to look about, and try to realize all this grand- 
eur of utter desolation, for now they had passed the 
line of vegetation, and were in a wilderness of rock 
and cloud. 

Still, it was with a long sigh of relief that they 
found themselves safely landed on the platform by 
the Summit House, whose celebrated St. Bernard dog 
stood to welcome them, as he does every car-load, 
grave and courteous as an Arab chieftain. 

The wind blew great guns, and the clouds below 
them formed and separated, giving occasional vistas 
of scenery that almost took their breath away. 

After leaving their extra wraps in-doors, and regis- 
tering, they went out, along the plank walk, and 
down the successive flights of steps which lead to the 


256 


TRANSPLANTED. 


carriage road ; and, walking down that a little way, 
seated themselves on the rocky barrier beside it, to 
look off upon the vast spaces below, now hidden by 
clouds, now showing clear and wonderful through the 
rifts. 

Jacqueline drew a long breath, and said slowly, — 

“ I wonder if we’ll feel like this when we get 
to heaven, as if the earth with its temptations and 
sin was so far away. It seems to me it would be 
very hard for any one to think mean thoughts up 
here.” 

Just then there came a stronger gust than usual, 
and Bert’s hat went flying over the rocky barrier on 
to the jagged rocks just beyond. 

“ Not so very,” he laughed, springing forward ; and 
began to climb the barrier. 

“ No, no ! ” screamed Jacqueline and Bessie together, 
“ don’t, don’t, Bert, if you should fall.” 

Thus entreated he hesitated an instant, then said 
laughingly,— 

“ Pshaw, girls, it’s nothing just to step from here 
to the next rock where I can pick it up,” but even as 
he spoke another gust lifted it again, carrying it close 
by, and as Bert almost involuntarily grasped after it, 
he lost his balance and — went over. 

With an awful horror Jacqueline’s eyes closed, and 
she sank back faint and still, but Bessie could see he 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


257 


had only dropped a few feet upon a jutting bowlder, 
and was quite unhurt. 

“ J aca, J aca, he’s all right ! ” she screamed, terrified 
at her look. “Bert, give me your hands ; she’s going 
to faint,” and soon he had scrambled back to the road 
in safety, but minus a hat. 

Jacqueline revived when she saw him unhurt, but 
it was with a shudder that she watched the brown 
Derby careering from rock to rock, over the infinite 
deeps below. 

“ I don’t like high places,” she sighed, “ they make 
me feel as if I must throw myself head-foremost ; 
oh, let’s go back to the hotel, it makes me sick,” and 
Bert, tying a silk handkerchief over his short locks, 
gave her his arm which she gladly accepted. 

“Why, Jaca, how weak and trembling you are,” he 
cried, “ do you care so much for me ? ” and her look 
into his face said more than words. 

They ate their dinner in the hotel, then visited the 
old Tip-top House, now a low cave-like nest for spiders 
(if spiders go to mountain tops — do they ?), examined 
the great cable chains which pass over all the build- 
ings and anchor them to the solid rock (like the wise 
man’s house, perhaps ! ), saw their names printed with 
the list of arrivals in the little daily paper, and lin- 
gered long in the interesting quarters of the Signal 
Service. 


258 


TRANSPLANTED. 


But Jacqueline could not forget tlie awful shock of 
the morning, and her fine-strung temperament made 
her feel a depression she could not express in 
the midst of this strangely lonely, yet so busy 
spot. 

When they took their seats in the car for the return 
journey, Bert was quite jaunty in a white tennis cap, 
which bore the words “ Summit House ” across its front. 
This he had bought, not so much for a souvenir as 
because he had to have it, while the girls carried 
pretty carven relics, and one or two books of moun- 
tain photographs. 

Their descent was rapid, and seemed, if any thing, 
more frightful than the ascent had been. Jacqueline 
sat where she could look out upon the little engine, 
and her eyes moved from that to the left and right, 
as vapors sometimes shut them in, and again lifted 
to give them shudderingly glorious outlooks over 
mountain and valley. 

It was late afternoon when they reached Fabyan’s 
again, and before supper they were in the observation 
car, ready to take the wonderful trip through Craw- 
ford Notch, and over the Frankenstein trestle, amid 
scenery which is beyond description. 

Seated in one of the cane chairs, and gazing out, 
quite speechless with wondering delight, Jacqueline 
heard somebody say, — 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


259 


“ Why, Miss Amory,” and looking around, discovered 
their pale companion of yesterday. 

They had not seen him since last night, and he now 
explained that he had been in bed all day, suffering 
from over-exertion the day before. 

“ Where’s your brother ? ” he asked. 

J acqueline pointed him out, near the rear platform 
with Bessie, and turning to the view outside, said 
pleasantly, — 

“ Here’s where we forget to use our tongues, this 
keeps our eyes so busy.” 

“ Yes,” said Arthur, and both were silent again. 

It was late twilight when they reached Glen Sta- 
tion, and left the cars for the swinging mountain 
coach, drawn by four horses, which stood awaiting 
passengers. 

“ Can you set us down at Mr. Pack’s ? ” asked Bert, 
and receiving an affirmative answer, took his place on 
the broad seat between Webber and Arthur, opposite 
the girls. 

“ So you’re bent on that poky private house instead 
of a hotel ? ” asked the latter, laughing a little. 

“Yes, our rooms are engaged,” said Bert. 

“ Well, I guess we’ll try Wentworth Hall ; they say 
it’s fine, and I can’t stand stupidity,” he added with a 
rather disagreeable accent. 

“That’s one reason why we go by ourselves, we 


260 


TRANSPLANTED 


know we're not stupid, whatever others may be,” said 
Bessie, with good-natured pertness, and the laugh 
that followed prevented offense. 

Our three friends after quite a long drive, alighted 
in the darkness at a very white fence, before as white 
a house, and going up the sloping path, knocked on 
the lintel of the wide-open door. A woman appeared 
quickly from an inner room, shading a lamp with one 
hand and peering out at them with dark, sharp eyes. 

“ We are Miss Randall and the Amorys,” said Bert 
briskly, “ Mrs. Leavenworth engaged our rooms.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s all right, come in, come in.” 

She led them into an ordinary country parlor, stiff 
with hair-cloth furniture, and hideous with sprawling 
wall paper, green window-shades, and a red and yel- 
low carpet. 

“ Have you had supper ? ” she asked again, in the 
same brisk way. 

“No,” said Bert, “we left Fabyan’s before five.” 

“ All right ; want to go to your rooms while I’m get- 
ting it ? ” 

“ If you please,” and they soon found themselves — 
that is, the girls — in a low square chamber, its sides 
slightly sloping, but with three great windows from 
which there must be a breezy outlook by day. 

Soon a bell summoned them to a good-sized dining- 
room, where, upon the end of a long table, plates were 


TO THE MOUNTAINS. 


261 


laid for three. Their supper was plain, but whole- 
some and well-cooked, and after it was over all were 
glad to seek the rest they so much needed. 

The last thing Jacqueline heard was a burst of talk 
and laughter through the open windows, as if a merry 
party were coming up the path, then she turned over 
on her pillow and knew nothing more till broad day- 
light. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 

They were awakened by a loud rap on their door. 

“ Girls ! girls ! ” cried Bert’s rapturous voice, 
“ get up and see the most glorious morning that you 
ever dreamed of ! ” and, with a merry remark or two 
over his enthusiasm, they obeyed. 

But their sudden exclamations, as they reached the 
window, quite vindicated Bert. Jackson lies in a 
lovely valley at the foot of Thorn Mountain, with the 
Presidential Range lying to the west and north. The 
house where they now were fronted one of the ro- 
mantic roads, which wind about through all this 
favored region, and, being upon a slight elevation, 
commanded the whole charming valley and the moun- 
tains beyond. 

At a little distance down the' road was a large 
hotel, above which flags were flying, while the broad 
verandas completely surrounding it were well filled 
with gayly-painted rockers, and hammocks. 

In front was a large lawn, made charming by a cen- 
tral fountain and parterres of flowers, and at one side 
262 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


263 


was a tennis-court, beyond which picturesque pavil- 
ions and awnings were stretched. 

A shower in the night made the air of crystal 
purity, while the few ragged remnants of vapor were 
chasing each other up the mountain sides, as if flee- 
ing from the searching eyes of an angry sun. 

“ Oh ! ” said J acqueline, with a long breath, “ we 
ought to thank God just for being alive ! ” 

Bessie turned, and looked at her. She seemed un- 
usually lovely in her white robe, with the dusky hair 
tossed about her face, which shone with some inner 
light, and, putting an arm about her, Bessie said, lov- 
ingly, — 

“ You sweet child ! Why is it you always remem- 
ber to give praise where it is due ? I was feeling as 
exultant as you, but I hadn’t thought to thank 
Him!” 

“I don’t know,” said Jacqueline, reflectively, “you 
see it was a very wonderful thing to me, when I felt 
so utterly alone in the world, to find I had such a 
powerful Father, and since I fully realized it I have 
always felt glad and proud to turn to Him first, in 
every thing.” 

This was, indeed, the key-note of Jacqueline’s un- 
usual character. Alongside of her sensitiveness, 
ran a vein of thorough appreciativeness, which lifted 
her far above those natures which accept every thing 


264 


TRANSPLANTED. 


as their due, and kept her humble and sweet through 
events which might have spoiled her character, had 
it been attuned to a lower key. 

But, joined to her father’s artistic, pleasure-loving 
nature, was her mother’s perfect conscientiousness 
and patience, with a sweet, childlike gratitude and 
fidelity all her own. So, as soon as love had opened 
her heart to good influences, there was little fear that 
any act of her own would close it again. 

They hastened to dress, and join Bert on the piazza 
below, which crossed the east front and side of the 
house, commanding the same view as that from the 
girls’ windows above. At one end a young lady sat 
sketching, and, near by, an elder one was down on 
the steps between two children, a boy and girl of per- 
haps twelve and ten years — the trio evidently just 
in from a walk, for they were in full mountain cos- 
tume, and carried alpenstocks. They were very busy 
now, sorting over the pine needles they had gathered 
for pillows, their balsamic odor being delicious after 
the rain — and all were talking gayly as our young 
people appeared. 

The three new-comers bowed slightly, and the elder 
lady rose and stepped forward, saying graciously, — 

“You are our new boarders, I believe ? Mrs. Pack 
told us she was expecting you. Is this Miss 
Amory ? ” looking at Bessie. 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


265 


“No, I am Bessie Randall, and this is my friend, 
Miss Jacqueline Amory — also her brother, Bert.” 

“And I am Mrs. Chapman, and this young lady, 
always hard at work, is Miss Ransome ; while these ” 
(putting a hand on each child’s head) “are my Will 
and Minnie.” 

Pleasant greetings were exchanged, when Bessie 
asked, — 

“ And are we all the boarders ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; there’s Mrs. Willey and the Alden 
brothers — two fine young college fellows who are off 
on their usual two-mile tramp before breakfast ; be- 
sides Miss Sheppard and Miss Yates — two teachers 
from Chicago. I believe that’s all.” 

“ You forget the baby ! ” put in Miss Ransome, in 
a clear, incisive voice, which made you feel at once 
that she was something a little out of the ordinary 
run of young ladies. 

“ Oh, yes, the baby,” laughed Mrs. Chapman, “ how 
could I forget the baby ? ” 

Just then two athletic young men, in flannel blouses 
and knickerbockers, and carrying stout alpenstocks, 
came around the end of the piazza, and, before they had 
noticed the strangers, began to banter Miss Ransome. 

“It’s the very same sketch I’m sure,” cried one, 
who was the taller, and a blonde ; “ now, Miss Theo, 
why don’t you give us something new ? ” 


266 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ I wasn’t aware I had given you any thing yet,” 
was her quick retort, and the other brother, darker 
and more slender, cried out, — 

“ There, Thornton, served you right. Now, Miss 
Theo, I can appreciate your labor, for” — 

Just then he perceived our friends, and stopped ab- 
ruptly, while Mrs. Chapman in her character as chap- 
erone, began introductions at once. 

By the time the breakfast bell summoned them in, 
they were feeling quite at home, and were soon made 
acquainted with the others about the table, where 
Mrs. Pack poured coffee, while a pale, shy-looking 
woman waited upon the guests. 

The Chicago teachers proved to be pleasant-faced 
ladies, and Mrs. Willey, a large, handsome blonde, all 
smiles, dimples, and white teeth, with such a hearty 
laugh and obliging manners that she seemed by com- 
mon consent to be the leader in all excursions and 
fun. 

It was a very lively table, with no lack of small 
talk or witticisms, some indeed, rather too sharp and 
personal for comfort. Bessie’s eyes sparkled, and she, 
as well as Bert, soon began to put in a word now and 
then; but Jacqueline, though her face spoke for her, 
said comparatively little. They had just risen and 
were strolling out of doors again, when a childish 
shout was heard from the lawn, and a little fellow of 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


267 


perhaps three years, his large head one mass of close 
flaxen curls, came forward, trying with all his small 
might to half drag, half carry a big gray cat, not 
much smaller than himself. 

His sturdy little form was thrown back, and his 
face was red with the effort; but, though the cat 
scratched and struggled, he would not give up and 
let it go. 

A burst of laughter greeted him. 

“ Hang on, Teddy ! ” “ Don’t let go, there’s a man ! ” 
“ Here, this way, my young Trojan!” “Never say 
die ! ” were the merry exclamations that encouraged 
him, as his chubby little bare-kneed legs toiled up the 
path till, panting and exhausted, he dropped the gray 
mouser in Mrs. Willey’s lap, where, exhausted with 
her easy laughter, she had sunk down on the bottom 
step. 

She was too much given up to her merriment to 
notice just what had happened until, with a quick 
“meouw,” the creature had sprung from her arms, 
and fled, spitting, up a tree. 

The baby looked at her, then at his escaped prey, 
then around at the noisy group, still laughing and 
clapping their hands, and his lips began to quiver. 

“I binged it for ’oo,” he said reproachfully, to the 
helpless Mrs. Willey ; “ ’oo said ’oo lited tats,” and 
was about to turn away with angry disdain from this 


268 


TRANSPLANTED. 


scene of his unappreciated labors, when Jacqueline 
suddenly stepped to his side, and said, gently, — 

“ It was very fine and brave of you, Teddy, but the 
naughty cat wouldn’t stay. How proud I should be, 
if you’d bring me a flower.” 

He put his head on one side, regarding her like a 
saucy robin. 

“ Who is ’oo ? ” he asked gravely. 

“I am Jaca,” she said simply, “and I’m going to 
live here awhile with you; won’t you bring me a 
flower ? ” 

“ Does ’oo ’ike f’owers ? ” 

“Very much.” 

He regarded her critically a moment, while the 
others checked their laughter to watch the two. 

“ Does ’oo ’ike dem ? ” pointing to a clump of dan- 
delions in the grass. 

“Yes, I like them. I like any flower.” 

“Well,” he said gravely, “den Ted’ll det ’oo some, 
but ’oo’s pittier dan dem, Ted sinks,” breaking into a 
brilliant little smile, that showed his pearls of teeth, 
and setting off the rest into sympathetic laughter. 

“ Ted always did have good taste,” murmured the 
elder Alden to Miss Ransome slyly; while Teddy, 
quite ignoring their merriment, proceeded to pick all 
the dandelions he could find and brought them, a stem- 
less heap, to throw into Jacqueline’s lap. 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


269 


“Now wait a minute, and I’ll make you something 
pretty,” she said, and ran indoors a moment, to re- 
appear with a ball of zephyr, also a needle and thread, 
with which she deftly sewed the dandelions about the 
ball, covering it entirely to form a large, plushy globe 
of brightest green and yellow. 

“Why, it’s really lovely,” cried Mrs. Willey, stop- 
ping her laughter to admire, and when it was finally 
given into Teddy’s hands he trotted away to show 
“ mamma,” the proudest baby in Christendom. 

“Whose child is he ?” asked Jacqueline of Miss 
Kansome. 

“ Oh, the cook’s ; she’s a young widow, poor 
thing ! ” was the answer. “ Isn’t he cunning ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Jacqueline, “ he’s a fine little man, 
and, evidently, a great admirer of Mrs. Willey ! ” 

“ No, indeed ! I feel you have quite superseded 
me, and now I fear nothing but a long walk will ease 
my breaking heart ! Come ! one couldn’t ask a bet- 
ter day for climbing ; clear, cool, and delightful, with 
no clouds to intercept the view ; who’ll tackle Mount 
Thorn ? ” 

The party was soon made up of the Aldens (Thorn- 
ton and Henry), Miss Ransome, the Chapman chil- 
dren, Mrs. Willey, and our young people, and soon 
met again upon the piazza in their thick, untanned 
boots, hats well secured, and short untrimmed skirts 


270 


TRANSPLANTED. 


— the gentlemen in their knickerbockers, and tennis 
caps and shoes. 

“ But we’ve no alpenstocks ! ” said Bessie, looking 
about upon the group. 

“ You can get them over at the hotel,” said Henry 
Alden, “let me show you the way, Miss Randall,” 
and they paired off — Thornton Alden with Jacque- 
line, Bert with Miss Theo, and Mrs. Willey hopping 
along merrily with the children. 

They soon suited themselves with sticks, and began 
their winding, upward walk. 

“ It isn’t far, is it ? ” asked Jacqueline, innocently, 
glancing up to the slanting rock upon the summit 
which stood out boldly in the crystal air. 

The rest laughed. 

“'Not so high as heaven,” said Thornton Alden, 
“ but pretty hard to reach, after all. Are you a good 
climber, Miss Amory ? ” 

“ I can’t tell, yet, as I have never tried.” 

“ She is, in one sense,” said Bessie, with a loving, 
backward look. “ If your mountain were heaven, Mr. 
Alden, she could climb it, I am sure.” 

“Don’t, Bessie!” Jacqueline’s cheek flushed 
hotly, and just then a coach-load filled with a gay 
party, came dashing towards them, proving a welcome 
diversion. “G — 1 — e — n H — o — u — s — e! 
Hip, Hip, Hurrah ! ” they spelled and cheered, in 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


271 


true mountain style, as their handkerchiefs fluttered 
a greeting. 

“ Alas ! alas ! ” cried Theo Ransome, as the party 
passed on, replacing her own mouchoir in her jacket 
pocket, “this is the only drawback to living in a 
private house; we can not spell its name in that 
triumphant manner, for it has none ! ” 

“How would P — a — c — k H — o — u — s — e 
do ? ” suggested Bert. 

“ Oh, dreadful ! ” laughed Bessie. “ They’d be sure 
to understand it pack-horse, instead ! ” and so, in 
merry nonsense, they beguiled the way, until they 
stood on the broad, green slope before the last farm- 
house to be passed, beyond which the road dwindles 
into a path, and then a series of rough scrambling 
climbs, till the summit is reached. 

“Do let’s sit down a minute ! ” begged Mrs. Willey, 
dropping upon the grass. “ Has anybody strength 
enough left to draw up a bucket of water from that 
old-fashioned well ? ” 

“ I don’t think I have ! ” said Henry Alden, lying 
lazily back, with his hands beneath his head. 

“ Henry, you wretch ! ” cried his brother, giving 
him a playful kick, and soon the three boys, with 
much laughter, and great pretense of exertion, were 
swinging down one end of the great well-sweep, till 
the bucket came into sight. 


272 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Catch it, quick ! before we let go ! ” cried Henry, 
and the girls sprang to obey, landing it safely on the 
curbing. 

There was a tin cup hanging from a nail, and, as 
Theo took a long, deep drink, she cried out, — 

“ Oh ! what delicious water ! It is nectar ! ” 

All agreed with her, for this deep mountain well is 
famed for its cold, sweet water, as many a tourist can 
testify ; and, thus refreshed, they found strength for 
the last half mile of vigorous climbing which, at last, 
brought them out upon the slanting rock, from 
which they could look over a scene whose beauty 
beggars description. 

The descent was a hysterical scramble, till another 
drink at the well cooled them off a little, and, from 
there down was only a reasonably steep, down-hill run. 

But it would take endless chapters to tell of all the 
climbs to breezy mountain summits ; the quiet drives, 
on a springy buckboard, through ferny woods, over 
long, lonely roads where one suddenly wakes from the 
drowsy spell of the stillness to hear some “view- 
halloo ” close by, and see a great six-horse coach go 
swinging past ; the more exhilarating excursions with 
some large party upon the top of such a coach, to 
visit fairy-like cascades and beautiful intervales, 
where the sudden change from a forest road to a 
great hotel, alive with guests, and fitted with every 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


273 


modern luxury, seems like enchantment ; or the quiet 
walk, following some single foot-path deep into the 
woods, to come out, at last, by some rushing moun- 
tain stream, pouring over its rocky barriers in a suc- 
cession of falls whose beauty would tempt one on for 
miles ; all, or some of these, were daily experiences, 
until Jacqueline felt almost ashamed (knowing what 
a ragged, faded, patched side of the world still ex- 
isted in Gem Street) that she should be allowed to 
dip so deeply into the luxury and glory of this. 

One day as she lay stretched out upon a great, 
slanting rock, close by the exquisite Glen Ellis Fall, 
listening idly to the tinkle of Bessie’s banjo not far 
away, and thinking all these things, an idea came to 
her, almost startlingly at first, but growing clearer 
and stronger as she pondered upon it, — an idea which 
was to grow into a life-work, noble and wide-spreading 
as the great, sheltering forest elm that shaded Jacque- 
line’s head where she lay. 

One morning not long after their arrival, they met 
Arthur Phelps and Mr. Webber, as they were passing 
Wentworth Hall, and the two came forward quite 
eagerly to greet them. 

Mrs. Chapman, Miss Yates, and the two Aldens 
were with our friends bent on a walk up the Glen, 
and the two gladly joined their party, though it was 
an exertion for Arthur to walk so far. 


274 


TRANSPLANTED. 


But he complained that it was desperately lonely 
at the great hotel. 

“ It seems as if I should never get acquainted/’ he 
said, “ every body’s in groups, and nobody cares to 
take us in.” 

Jacqueline, who, with her usual thoughtful kind- 
ness, had accommodated her walk to his, and thus 
fallen behind the rest, said gayly, — 

“ I told you so ! I told you so ! There’s no place 
so lonely as a great crowd, where you don’t know a 
soul. Now, we’re just like one family at Mrs. 
Pack’s.” 

“ Isn’t there a Mr. Pack ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, yes, but he is clerk at the hotel, and is hardly 
ever at home. You know our house is a sort of off- 
shoot to this hotel that’s close by, so we have a good 
many privileges there.” 

“ What, for instance ? ” asked Arthur. 

“The tennis ground and reading-room, etc. Of 
course we hire all our carriages there, and sometimes 
they get us up a little banquet when we want to be 
very fine.” 

“ Beally, that’s not so bad. Do you suppose Mrs. 
Pack could take us in, too ? ” 

“ Let me see, I don’t know I’m sure. It’s wonder- 
ful how much room there is in that house ; it’s a 
mystery to me where she puts them all ; though, to 


SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


275 


be sure, the two teachers room together, and we all 
double up a good deal. Bert’s room isn’t much bigger 
than a dry-goods box, but Bessie’s and mine is very 
comfortable.” 

"I’ve a great mind to come over there and try. 
We might at least get rooms at the hotel by you. 
I presume it isn’t as fine a place, for nothing could be 
more elegant than Wentworth’s, but ’t would be near 
friends.” 

Jacqueline smiled slightly, but only said, “ Cer- 
tainly,” and sure enough, a few days later, Arthur 
and Webber were installed in Mrs. Pack’s own room, 
while she bestowed her weary bones somewhere under 
the roof at night. 

For this was the Pack’s harvest season. All winter 
long he might lounge before the fire and whittle out 
curiosities from pine wood, while she sat opposite 
fashioning birch bark into attractive souvenirs ; but 
in summer they must be up and doing at real labor, 
while the winter’s fancy work, sold to relic-hunting 
travelers, brought astonishing prices at the village 
shop. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


BEING AND DOING. 

It had been a gray, chilly day, the mountains sul- 
lenly hiding in mists, and the pleasure-seeking crowd 
huddling about any fire they could find j and, as Mrs. 
Pack’s rooms afforded no such luxury, her family 
were perforce driven to the hotel for comfort. Here 
the long parlor was cheerful with a large open fire, 
while the great round stove in the office glowed in 
comfortable ugliness. 

There being no bar in these mountain hostelries, 
and few objectionable guests, the ladies frequent 
these offices almost equally with the gentlemen. 

Our people from the smaller house had made sev- 
eral pleasant acquaintances among them by this time, 
and often joined in their excursions and pleasures. 

They were now the center of a merry crowd about 
the piano, listening to the singing of Bert, Bessie, 
J acqueline, and Arthur, for the latter had a good bass 
voice to support Bessie’s fine alto, while Bert and his 
sister carried the tenor and soprano. 

Arthur was now their almost constant companion, 
276 


BEING AND DOING. 


277 


and was rapidly gaining strength and color, — gaining 
too some new impressions of life which could not fail 
to be of use to the motherless, over-indulged boy. 

As the merry crowd clamored for “ just one more,” 
our quartette having already sung a dozen pieces, at 
least, Arthur waved his hands deprecatingly and 
laughed out, — 

“ Mercy ! Mercy! I’m as dry as a codfish-bone, 
and husky as a last year’s raven ! ” then, as if a sud- 
den thought had struck him, he turned and said, 
“ Webber! ” 

That young man, who was reading at a little dis- 
tance, came forward at once, and after Arthur had 
whispered a few words to him left the room. 

In a few minutes a waiter appeared, bearing a tray 
full of small cakes, followed by another, who carried 
a small basket of champagne bottles and another of 
glasses. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” said Arthur airily, 
“let’s have something to put fresh courage into us,” 
and he directed the waiters to pass the cake and wine. 

Nearly all the party partook, with delighted thanks 
and words of praise for Arthur’s thoughtful hos- 
pitality ; but though our young friends accepted the 
cake, they waved the wine aside, untasted. Arthur did 
not notice this at first ; not indeed, until flushed and 
excited by one full glass which he had taken almost 


278 


TRANSPLANTED. 


at a swallow, lie turned to see Jacqueline receiving a 
glass of water from the waiter, who had evidently 
brought it at her desire. 

“ Here ! here ! none of that ! ” he cried boisterously. 
“We can’t have any prohibitionists in this crowd; ” 
then, noticing Bert’s empty glass, he added quickly, 
“ What, Amory, you aren’t really such a molly-coddle 
as to refuse good honest wine ? ” 

“ Wait till I see some that is honest and then I’ll 
answer you,” said Bert, trying hard to speak lightly, 
and not show offense. 

But Arthur was not so careful. 

“ Do you mean to say this wine is doctored ? ” he 
cried, flushing hotly. “ I’ll have you know it’s the 
best this place affords, Master Amory. I don’t buy 
cheap wines.” 

The scene was growing unpleasant ; for Bessie, with 
a short laugh, was about to launch forth one of her 
most sarcastic speeches, when Jacqueline suddenly 
sprang up, and said hastily, — 

“ 0 Bess ! come with me a minute. I want to tell 
you something,” and fairly dragging her out into the 
office, f said earnestly, “ Bessie, don’t ! What good will 
it do ? He isn’t himself at all, and ’twould be foolish 
to cross swords with a half-drunken fellow.” 

Bert now appeared : his usually good-natured face 
disfigured by a scowl. 


BEING AND DOING. 


279 


“The puppy,” he said angrily. “Fve a great mind 
to go back and thrash him — insulting fop.” 

“Bert!” 

J acqueline’s voice expressed all she did not say ; 
and her brother, looking ashamed of himself, yet 
moodily defiant, walked over to the stove, and, picking 
up a newspaper, sat down and pretended to read it ; 
while the girls, with arms intwined, paced slowly up 
and down the adjoining corridor in earnest conversa- 
tion. 

Meanwhile in the parlor, the fun waxed fast and 
furious, until even the clerk stepped in and looked 
about with a doubtful air. Most of those present 
were young and thoughtless, and did not stop to con- 
sider what a spectacle they were making of themselves. 
At length a few elders, hearing the riotous noise, came 
down from their rooms, and, by unqualified disapproval 
of their own young people, broke up the party, and 
put the others to a shamed silence ; the waiters, mean- 
while, briskly gathering up the bottles and plates, as 
if anxious to remove all traces of the affair. 

Just then Webber came out of the parlor, his face 
wearing a pained, downcast look ; and as the girls 
happened to be passing, he said with a hesitating 
air, — 

“ I hope you don’t blame me, young ladies.” 

Bessie — nothing, if not truthful — said at once, — 


280 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Yes, I do, Mr. Webber ! He’s only a boy, and it’s 
too bad to let him make such a fool of himself.” 

“ Indeed, I can’t help it,” he answered earnestly, 
“ he will have it. I’d lose my place if I attempted 
to control him.” 

“ Sometimes,” said J acqueline, with an upward 
smile that half took the sting out of her words, 
“ sometimes it is better to give up one’s place, rather 
than one’s conscience.” 

Webber winced. 

“ You don’t know, Miss Amory,” he said bitterly, 
“you don’t know what it is to be poor.” 

Jacqueline’s face flushed with earnestness, and an 
eager light shone in her eyes. 

“ Yes, I do,” she said very low, “ and I know, too, 
what it is to be without a conscience ; for God’s sake 
don’t let yourself get to that pass, if you have to die 
in the gutter.” 

Intense feeling vibrated in her voice, and touched 
some of the better chords in his nature. He bowed 
gravely. 

“You are right, Miss Amory. It’s hard to be poor, 
but a man can’t sell himself for gold, after all. In 
my strong desire to earn the means for completing 
my education, I had almost forgotten that,” and he 
turned away with dignity. 

Jacqueline’s hand was on his arm. 


BEING AND DOING. 


281 


“ Forgive me, Mr. Webber. I have no right to 
judge anybody ; I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

“No, and you haven’t been; I know you have 
really been kind, but it’s hard sometimes to 
swallow the medicine that we know is good for 
us ! ” and, smiling rather bitterly, he went abruptly 
out, disappearing in the thick mists before the door. 

In a few minutes Arthur staggered out ; his face 
flushed, and his eyes bleared with the quick-acting 
liquor. 

“Where’s Webber ?” he asked thickly. 

Nobody answered for a moment ; then Bert pointed 
to the door. 

“Just gone out,” he said, shortly. 

Arthur muttered a low oath, and started forward, 
hastily. As he did so, the toe of his boot caught on 
some slight projection; he stumbled, and fell for- 
ward upon the stove. 

With a cry, Bert sprang up, just in time to save 
him from a dreadful burn, though the force of the 
shock threw his own right hand against the almost 
red-hot surface, giving it a long, cruel burn all down 
the outer edge. 

The whole thing sobered Arthur, somewhat, and he 
cried out, with affright, — 

“ Oh ! Amory, are you hurt ? ” while the girls, and 
others, ran hastily forward. 


282 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“It’s nothing,” said Bert, hiding the hand in his 
handkerchief. 

But the clerk insisted on seeing it, and sent an at- 
tendant at once for healing lotions and bandages ; 
while Arthur dropping into a seat — shame, grati- 
tude, and a desire to run and hide, all struggling in 
the soul — watched in moody silence, as Jacqueline 
tenderly bound it up, her lovely face all a-quiver with 
pity. 

“If I had such a sister I might be a better fel- 
low ! ” thought Arthur, desperately casting about for 
some self-excuse. “ Why can’t I be man enough to 
tell her I despise myself, and beg Amory’s pardon ? ” 

But there were too many others around, he rea- 
soned, — little thinking how he would have redeemed 
himself in their eyes, had he done so ! — and, creep- 
ing away finally, he went back into the parlor, and 
threw himself on a sofa in a fit of sullen misery. 

The next day the weather was fair again, but the 
spirits of our friends did not resume their usual 
buoyancy. Bert had endured a painful, sleepless 
night, and J acqueline had slept almost as little, in her 
anxious care for him. 

Perhaps Arthur and Mr. Webber might have re- 
ported the same wakefulness, had they been of a 
mind to, though it was not physical pain that kept 
them from dream-land. Even Mrs. Willey, the Alden 


BEING AND DOING. 


288 


brothers, and Miss Ransome, who had been partakers 
of the wine yesterday, were provoked with them- 
selves for their part in that foolish scene, and break- 
fast was an unusually quiet affair ; only the teachers 
and Mrs. Chapman’s family, who had not been 
present then, being at all like themselves. 

As a part of the family strolled out upon the 
piazza afterwards, Arthur hesitatingly approached 
the group composed of Jacqueline, Bert, and Miss 
Theo, and asked, earnestly, — 

“ Amory, how is your hand ? ” 

“ Oh, doing well,” said Bert, with hasty careless- 
ness, “ it was nothing.” 

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Your room happens to be over mine, Amory, and 
I know you didn’t sleep an hour all night ! I wish 
you’d let Webber look at it ; he’s quite a doctor.” 

“ Thank you, but I’ve an excellent physician,” 
placing a hand lovingly on Jacqueline’s shoulder. 
“ Really, Phelps, you needn’t worry ; it’s nothing 
serious.” 

Arthur’s face flushed. 

“ It was serious — for me. I beg your pardon for 
being such a cad ! ” 

“ Granted!” said Bert, heartily, giving his left 
hand. 

Arthur grasped it warmly. 


284 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ You’re a good fellow, Bert ! Come, I want a talk 
with you,” and, arm in arm, they stepped off down 
the path. 

Miss Ransome, turning to Jacqueline, said, 
abruptly, — 

“He’s more of a man than I thought him ! ” 

“ You mean Arthur Phelps ? ” 

“Yes. Tell me, Miss Jacqueline, do you always 
refuse wine ? ” 

“ Yes, always.” 

“ Pardon me if I am intrusive ; but have you any 
special reasons for doing so ? ” 

“ The same that I would have for doing any thing I 
thought would be wrong, and harmful.” 

“ Then you think it is wrong ? ” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“ Strange ! I’ve been accustomed to its use all my 
life, and never thought of its being wrong, except as 
people abuse its use, and make fools of themselves ! ” 
“ And did no one you love ever do this ? ” 

A sort of spasm passed over Miss Ransome’s face. 

“ Why do you ask ? ” she said, quickly. 

“ Because there are so few of us who could answer 
‘ No,’ to my question ; because there is hardly a per- 
son who can use it, without abusing it, and who has 
not seen the misery of its over-use in some one they 
care for.” 


BEING AND DOING. 


285 


“ I believe yon are right, Miss Amory. I have felt 
anger and shame for my — for a friend of mine, when 
I saw his weakness, but I never thought that this 
made it wrong for me to drink it, when I never allow 
myself to over-indulge. It seems as if people ought 
not to be judged for others’ weaknesses. We have 
enough of our own faults to carry.” 

“Yet, you would not like to do away with your 
personal influence, would you ? for, if you had no 
influence for evil, of course you could have none for 
good. Besides, how can you tell whether this wine- 
drinking may not, in time, prove too much even for 
you ? Don’t you care any more for it now than you 
did, say, five years ago ? ” 

“ Oh, I didn’t use to like it at all.” Then, seeing 
what an unconscious admission she had made, she 
stopped with a blush, adding in a shame-faced way, 
“ It is true ; we always had wine with our dinner, and 
I can remember when I did not care for it, in the 
least, wouldn’t take more than a sip or two, when the 
servant filled my glass. Miss Jacqueline, you’ve 
given me a thought this morning. I’ll have to work 
it out,” and bowing her head she went in-doors. 

She had scarcely disappeared when Mr. Webber ap- 
proached the rather secluded bench where Jacqueline 
was sitting among the vines at the end of the 
piazza. 


286 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“Miss Amory,” he said abruptly, “I’ve made up 
my mind.” 

She looked up inquiringly. 

“ I am going to tell Arthur this morning, that I am 
resolved to have nothing more to do with this habit 
of his. It will lose me my place, I’m sure, for that 
boy’s father never crosses him in any thing ; and that 
loss means giving up my chance of next winter’s 
medical course at the Pharmaceutical College, which 
I had set my heart on.” 

His face worked a little as he continued. 

“ I’ve had my own way to fight for the last six 
years, and it’s been a tough struggle, Miss Amory. 
Father was a country doctor, and left us about as 
poor as we could be, and mother was an invalid. I 
don’t know how we got along hardly, it was just from 
hand to mouth, but I was resolved to be a doctor, my- 
self, and thought I could see where father’s failures 
might teach me the road to success ; so I hung on to 
his books, and studied every minute I could get from 
work. My sister married a year ago, and,” his voice 
trembled, “ a little later mother died. This left me 
alone, and I resolved nothing should now prevent my 
having a course at college. When I heard of this 
place, as companion to Phelps, I jumped at the chance, 
for it would give me funds enough for next winter’s 
lectures; and, in my eager desire for these, I have 


BEING AND DOING. 


287 


gratified his every wish. But yesterday,” he paused 
as if to command his voice, “ when you looked up at 
me, and spoke as you did, it was my mother’s very 
look and smile. It seemed as if she were speaking 
to me. She was a good woman, Miss Amory, a true 
Christian, and would have said the same, were she 
living. I have thought of her all night, and I am re- 
solved. Even if I must wait another year, I will do 
what is right.” 

Jacqueline’s hand went out impulsively, and he 
clasped it with brotherly warmth. There were tears 
in her eyes as she said, — 

“ Mr. Webber, I am awfully sorry for you ; it is hard, 
I know. But I do believe you are right to take a 
stand in this matter, and somehow I can’t believe 
God will let you suffer for it.” 

“ Perhaps not,” he said, with a hopeless sort of 
smile, and turning, walked rapidly around the house, 
as if not wishing to meet the two, — Bert and Arthur, 
who were now approaching. 

The latter had a brighter look on his face than 
when he left, and as he took the vacant seat by 
Jacqueline, said gayly, — 

“Now you’ll be friends again, if your brother is, 
won’t you ? ” 

Jacqueline smiled. 

“ When was I your enemy ? ” 


288 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“Oh, well, you couldn’t have felt very kindly 
towards me last night.” 

“ But I did.” 

“ You did ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

Bert had passed around to the side piazza, and was 
romping with Mrs. Chapman’s children, and the baby, 
whose shouts and laughter almost drowned the voices 
of these two. 

“ But you don’t dare tell me you wasn’t angry and 
— and disgusted ? ” 

“ Disgusted ? yes, a little, and very, very sorry, but 
not angry. I’ll tell you what would make me angry — 
if you should do it again.” Jacqueline’s eyes flashed 
with something of their old fire. 

“ Oh, I won’t, you may be certain. I never would 
have talked so, anyhow, if I hadn’t been a little off.” 

“ I wasn’t thinking about the talking ,” observed 
Jacqueline. 

“ You weren’t ? Why, what in creation were you 
thinking of ? ” 

“ The drinking.” 

“Oh— h.” 

“ Certainly. One doesn’t mind the ravings of a sick 
person ; the thing is, to find out what makes nim sick, 
and, if possible, to remove the cause.” 

“ H — m — ’tis, eh?” 


BEING AND DOING. 


289 


“ Of course. Now you know what makes you sick, 
and disagreeable, and — forgive me — ugly, of course 
you will avoid the cause, or — we’ll have a right to 
be angry and disgusted.” 

He laughed uncomfortably. 

“Really, you’re quite a lawyer, Miss Jacqueline, 
but I think I can show you that a man may take his 
wine and yet keep himself in hand too.” 

“ I don’t want you to show me that,” said Jacque- 
line, with one of her sudden, sweet, radiant smiles. 
“ I’d a great deal rather you’d show me a man may 
do entirely without what he has found to be his 
worst enemy.” 

Arthur whistled a prolonged note ; though the 
smile had its effect. 

“ Really, Miss Amory,” he remonstrated, “ aren’t 
you a little bit — stiff ? Surely, among our kind of 
people a little champagne-drinking, now and then, 
isn’t a crime, is it ? ” 

“ It leads to it.” 

“ Oh, pshaw, Miss Jacqueline ! that’s talk ! Who 
did you, or I, ever know that was led to crime by 
drink ?” 

“ My father .” The words were low and intense. 
“ He broke my mother’s heart, and died himself — a 
criminal ! ” 

* Miss Jacqueline ! ” 


290 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ It is true ! And yet they were of the favored 
class you and I belong to, to-day ; rich and educated, 
— until dragged down by drink.” 

Arthur shuddered. 

“ I couldn’t ever get down to that ! ” 

“ How do you know ? Could you help being un- 
gentlemanly yesterday ? How can you tell what you 
will do next time ? I tell you, Arthur Phelps, it isn’t 
safe ! ” and she left him abruptly to ponder her words 
as he might. \ 

Then, joining the merry group on the side piazza, 
she was greeted by Ted with a rapturous “ Jetty!” — 
his nearest approach to Jaca — “ Oh, Jetty, tome and 
see ’oor Teddy.” 

“ I guess I will come and see my Teddy ! ” and she 
caught the little fellow up in her arms, covering him 
with kisses. 

Por she and the little man were the best of friends, 
the devotion he had formerly given to gay, handsome 
Mrs. Willey being now quite transferred to Jacque- 
line. He was a fine child — brave, sturdy, and faith- 
ful to his friends, with a heart much too big for his 
little body ; and Jacqueline’s rare sweetness, just 
dashed with a spice of fun, seemed to quite fascinate 
him. He liked Bessie very much, too, but no one 
could quite woo him from his “ Jetty’s” side, and she 
often took him with them on their drives, until their 


BEING AND DOING. 


291 


devotion had become the sport of the house, and he 
was often called “ Miss Jacqueline’s Ted.” 

That afternoon Bessie, having found an interesting 
book, was disinclined for talk, or rambling, so Jacque- 
line, who always enjoyed her own company, started 
for her favorite walk through the pines, beside Glen 
Ellis river ; where, having brought her portfolio for 
either sketching or writing, as she should see fit, she 
disposed of herself comfortably in a sort of natural 
arm-chair, formed of the rocky bowlders which the 
long action of the once wide and rapid torrent has 
worn into deep hollows, and angular projections. 
Now the slender stream, except after a storm, does 
not half cover these, but splashes along, in a succes- 
sion of fairy-like falls, through the center, only. 

As she lay back, idly dreaming, and deeming her- 
self well hidden in her cave-like retreat, she could 
occasionally catch glimpses of some gay coach-load 
flashing by, on the high road beyond the trees, or 
hear the murmur of voices above that of the falls, as 
groups of tourists came and went, leaping from 
bowlder to bowlder, along the bed of the stream, to 
disappear at length up the high bank, among the 
trees. 

Finally, a familiar voice exclaimed just above her 
head. She heard the rustling of branches, and the 
next minute Mr. Webber swung himself down from the 


292 


TRANSPLANTED. 


steep bank above, to the next bowlder, and, seating 
himself upon it, exclaimed, with a gayety she had 
never seen in him before, — 

“ Good-afternoon, Miss Amory ! ” 

She glanced up, surprised at his happy face and 
light laugh. 

“ Ah, Mr. Webber, how did you ever know I was 
here ? ” 

“ This betrayed you.” 

He pointed to her portfolio — a very handsome 
one, of alligator-skin, with silver corners and clasps 
— one of her grandmother’s last gifts — which had 
become familiar to him from seeing Jacqueline so 
often use it, and which had been laid carelessly upon 
the bowlder beside her. 

“ Sure enough ! I thought I was well hidden from 
all the world ; but I forgive you ! ” laughing, as she 
saw his face begin to wear a doubtful look. 

“ Thank you. I won’t disturb you long, but I must 
tell you, Miss Amory, that the battle is over, and — I 
keep my place ! ” 

“You do ? Good ! Please tell me all about it.” 

“Just what I’m longing to do! Well, I waited 
till Arthur came upstairs for his usual after-dinner 
snooze, which he has been in the habit of beginning, 
by taking what he calls his ‘slumber-sip,’ a pretty 
tough sip, too, Miss Amory ; namely, a big glass of 


BEING AND DOING. 


293 


egg-nog which I have always prepared for him, keep- 
ing the materials in our closet. It was on this order 
that I prepared to take my stand ; but, to my astonish- 
ment, I had no stand to take, apparently, for he only 
drew off his shoes, and, throwing himself back on the 
bed, said, rather crossly, — 

“ ‘ Shut those blinds, Webber ! — Well, what are 
you staring at?’ for, in my astonishment, I hadn’t 
moved. 

“‘ Don’t you — do you?’ I began; for I felt I must 
make my fight, and how could I if he wouldn’t give 
me any cause ? 

“ ‘ Well,’ he cried, still more crossly, ‘why don’t 
you do what I ask ? You look as if you’d like to 
say you won't do it ! ’ 

“This gave me an opening. 

“ ‘ No,’ I said, hastening to close the blinds, ‘ I’m 
glad to do any thing of this kind, but there was some- 
thing I should have refused to do.’ 

“ ‘ There was, eh ? And what, I’d like to know ? ’ 

“ ‘ To mix your egg-nog.’ 

“ ‘ Oh — in — deed ! ’ He drawled out the words in 
his hatefulest way. ‘ And what did you expect me to 
do then ? ’ 

“ ‘ To discharge me ! ’ I answered promptly. 

“ ‘You did?’ He raised himself on his elbows to 
look at me more closely in his surprise. 


294 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“‘And what would you have done about college, 
next winter ? ’ For he knows all about my ambitions, 
Miss Amory ; I told him once, in a moment of confi- 
dence, and I sometimes think he has felt that it gave 
him the whip-hand of me ever since. So I said 
promptly, ‘ I would give it up till next year.’ 

“‘You would ? and just for an idea ? ’ he asked 
again, earnestly. 

“‘I certainly would — for an idea, if you like to 
call it so; at any rate, to keep from helping you 
down hill, Arthur Phelps. You can go fast enough 
without me ! ’ 

“ He lay back at that, and was still a long time. I 
waited nervously, and finally burst out with, ‘ Well ?’ 

“ ‘Well, what ?* His voice had a queer sound. 

“ ‘ Why don’t you tell me to go ? 9 

“ ‘ Because ’ — and there was something in his voice, 
now, that I’ve never heard before — such a fine, manly 
ring ! — ‘ Because I’d be a brute if I did ! Because, 
Mark Webber, you’re a good fellow, and I like you; 
and, what’s more, I wouldn't take the wretched stuff if 
you should mix it! ’ 

“Well, I was surprised, but I asked: ‘Will you 
shake hands on it, Arthur ? ’ And we did, like broth- 
ers. Then we had a talk, which I don’t care to repeat, 
even to you, Miss Amory ; but there’s one thing cer- 
tain, — I haven’t lost my place, but I have gained a 


BEING AND DOING. 


295 


friend. Arthur and I’ll never be as we have been 
again.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ! I’m so glad ! I was sure there 
was something in that boy ! I declare, I shall always 
like him for acting so well ! ” and Jacqueline was 
lifted quite out of herself by her joy and delight in 
this happy change, but without one thought of self- 
gratulation that she had brought it about. 


CHAPTER XX. 


webber’s first patient. 

After this, things went very happily for our young 
friends. The Alden boys were gone, and a very de- 
voted young married couple had taken their room, 
but Miss Ransom e still remained, and had grown 
very fond of the girls. 

With our trio, herself, Webber, and Arthur, the six 
were just enough to fill a wide-seated double buck- 
board, or an ordinary three-seated country wagon ; so 
they kept together almost constantly, rather ignoring 
the rest of the household, and had some drives, picnics, 
and rambles, that would be a sweet memory in all 
their after life. 

Miss Ransome was not given to chattering of her 
private affairs, so they learned little more of her than 
that she and her brother lived with a widowed mother 
in Maine, and that she took care of herself by teach- 
ing drawing in the public schools. 

They saw, too, that she was an indefatigable worker, 
and seldom went anywhere without her sketch-book, 
but did not know that she secretly cherished the 
296 


WEBBER’S FIRST PATIENT. 297 


wish and expectation of going to Europe, for study, 
at some future day. 

She came of an old, aristocratic family, now much 
reduced in pocket, and was herself refined to the very 
finger-tips, but too noble and proud to look to wealthy 
relatives for her support. The stand she had thus 
taken, rather against their wishes, gave her an air of 
decision and independence that went well with her 
short, curling locks, her bright gray eyes, her erect 
figure, and rich voice. 

She was evidently a girl with a purpose, and this 
lifted her far above the usual gay society belle, with 
little to think of but her new dresses, and nothing to 
look forward to beyond the next ball. 

She and Bessie fraternized wonderfully well, and 
Jacqueline also liked her thoroughly, as indeed did all 
of them j but Mark Webber, with his rather yielding 
nature, looked upon her as a new revelation of bright, 
self-reliant young womanhood, and showed her a 
chivalrous admiration that he did not attempt to con- 
ceal. 

It was in the fourth week of their stay, and they 
had planned a ten-mile tramp to Fairy Cascade, with 
lunch at a farm-house near by. Jacqueline, always 
prompt, was ready and waiting, with her alpenstock, 
upon the piazza, which just then happened to be 
otherwise quite deserted, when Teddy came around 


298 


TRANSPLANTED. 


the house dragging a pasteboard cart with spool- 
wheels, which held one much-bedraggled doll as a 
passenger. 

“Ho, Teddy, my man, whither away?” called 
Jacqueline. 

The little fellow stopped and looked around. 

“What ’oo say?” he asked, not comprehending 
mediaeval English. 

“ Where are you going with your baby ? ” 

“ I’se tatin’ Sally to wide,” was his dignified response, 
and he continued his walk, Jacqueline tenderly smil- 
ing as she watched him down the walk and through 
the front gate. 

He had scarcely stepped outside it seemed, — though 
on these narrow roads, minus side-walks, it takes but 
a step or two to reach the middle, — when, with a 
rush and clatter, a great, swaying coach with six 
prancing horses came dashing around the curve, aimed 
for the hotel. It was all like a vision to J acqueline, — 
her quick, terrified cry, and rushing run down the 
path; the shouts of the people on the coach-roof; 
the driver’s frantic efforts to pull up his prancing 
horses ; the child’s shrill scream, — then a little 
figure seemed to be tossed to her very feet, just as 
she had reached the gate. 

Unconsciously groaning with horror, she stooped 
and raised the limp little form in her arms. 


WEBBER’S FIRST PATIENT. 


299 


“Oh, his mother, his mother! his poor, poor, 
mother ! ” was all she could say ; as, quite unmindful 
of the confusion among the passengers, the quick 
questions, and hurrying figures about her, she fairly 
ran with him towards the house. 

The commotion and cries had aroused them there, 
and Mrs. Pack met her with a white, scared face, 
just without the door; while heads were thrust out 
from upper windows with anxious exclamations, soon 
to be withdrawn, as their owners rushed down-stairs 
to see what it all meant ; but the mother, busy with 
her work at the back of the house, heard and saw 
nothing. 

“ Dear, dear ! ” cried Mrs. Pack nervously, “ is he 
killed ? Oh, what shall we do ? We must get a 
doctor at once.” 

Miss Ransome’s voice, prompt and decided, broke 
in upon the confusion of tongues, asking, exclaiming, 
and advising, all at once. 

“ I’ll bring Mr. Webber, he is a medical student,” 
and before the child was fairly laid on the stiff parlor 
sofa, softened with a comfortable, she was back with 
that young man in tow. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Pack had cried, in an agony, — 

“Who’ll tell his mother ? I never can. Oh, Miss 
Randall, won’t you ? ” 

Bessie drew back. 


300 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“Come, Bessie,” said Theo Bansome imperatively, 
and together they went on their dreaded errand, while 
Jacqueline, almost dazed, now stood close by and 
watched Mr. Webber’s careful examination. 

“He is not dead!” he exclaimed, just in time to 
reach the distracted mother’s ears, as she hurried in 
ghastly pale, then he added, “ His leg is broken, and 
the fall has knocked him senseless ; I hope that’s the 
worst.” 

“One of the horses must have kicked him,” ex- 
claimed a man’s excited voice ; “ he wasn’t run over, 
I know.” 

“He’s coming to,” said Webber, “quick! some- 
body before he can feel pain ; help me to set this 
leg.” 

The poor young mother, with a cry, fled from the 
room ; but Theo Bansome stepped forward at once, 
and Jacqueline never moved from her post. 

“ That’s right, you two brave girls ! Hold him so ; 
now steady.” 

The sharp click of the reunited bone went through 
Jacqueline like an electric shock, and the child’s eyes 
opened with a faint cry. 

“ Mamma,” he said, then seeing who was by him, 
“ Jetty ! ” 

“Yes, dear, mamma’s right here,” for hearing the 
cry, the mother had come again to his side. 


WEBBER'S FIRST PATIENT. 


301 


“Oh, Teddy, mamma’s love,” she said brokenly, 
bending over him. 

“ What mates ’oo try ? Ow ! My led hu’ts ! ” he 
exclaimed. 

“ Yes, but Teddy’s going to be a man, and let me 
do it up nicely,” said Webber in a soothing voice, 
holding it tight between his hands, while he directed 
Bert to make the splints, and in a short time it was 
splintered and bandaged, in a neat, workmanlike 
manner. 

“There, that’s better ; now don’t cry, my brave boy. 
You’ll have to lie still awhile. Ah ! ” 

The exclamation was caused by seeing the child’s 
eyes slowly roll backwards in his head, while a spasm 
shook his limbs ; he knew, now, there must have been 
injury to the head, or spine, as well. 

The mother burst into a succession of shrill cries, — 

“ Oh, he’s dying ! he’s dying ! My God help me ! ” 

“Hush!” said Webber, almost sternly, “it’s only 
a spasm ! ” and, giving his directions, right and left, 
he soon had the child undressed, and in bed, where 
they did every thing possible to alleviate his suffer- 
ings. 

There was little thought for any thing but the 
baby, the rest of that day. An older practitioner 
was found at the hotel who complimented Webber’s 
handling of the case, and assisted him in his more 


302 


TRANSPLANTED. 


delicate examination of the spine, where the injury 
was found to be. 

“ What do you think,” whispered Webber, “will he 
ever walk again ? ” 

“We can’t tell \ he is young and healthy, he may 
outgrow it, but he will need constant and unremitting 
care for years.” 

“ His poor mother ! ” groaned Webber, “she hasn’t 
a cent in the world, except her daily wages.” 

“ Bad ! bad ! ” said the doctor. “ Such things make 
one almost doubt in Providence, till we look deeper, 
and see what comes of them ; there’s one thing, — 
I’ll let those passengers know ! ” 

He did so, with the result that a generous purse 
was made up among them, for the distressed mother. 

“ And what’s your fee, doctor ? ” asked an elderly 
gentleman who had hitherto said little, though his 
keen dark eyes seemed to take in every thing. 

“ Oh, I’m off on a vacation, now, and can afford to 
give my services,” he said, laughingly. “Besides, 
there’s very little I can do. This young Webber is 
handling the case nicely.” 

“ He is some tourist stopping here ? ” 

“Well, no ; I imagine, from what I saw and heard, 
he attends upon one of the young gentlemen — that 
boy with a slight limp.” 

“ Ah, yes ! he may need a fee ? ” 


WEBBER'S FIRST PATIENT. 303 

“ Very likely ! very likely. He doesn’t look any 
too well off.” 

u All right ; I’ll see to tha t ! ” and the gentleman 
moved away. 

But next day, to Webber’s intense and delighted 
astonishment, he received, in the morning’s mail, an 
envelope containing a check for fifty dollars, and the 
following note : — 

Mark Webber, M. D. (To be.) 

Bear Sir, — Inclosed, please find fee of fifty dollars in con- 
sideration of valuable services rendered the young child lately 
injured. Yours sincerely, 

Jonas Hapgood. 

Boston. 

With sparkling eyes he came towards the little 
group, who sat in subdued talk upon the piazza, and, 
holding up the check, exclaimed, — 

“ Hear this ! ” reading the note. 

When he reached the name at the end, Theo gave a 
cry of wonder. 

“ It’s my uncle ! my mother’s uncle ! I haven’t 
seen him since I was too small to remember, but 
Jonas Hapgood, of Boston, is certainly the uncle who 
sends mother a regular remittance every six months, 
and wanted — ” she suddenly checked herself, for, in 
her surprise she had told more than she meant to; 
then, seeing their expectant looks, added, doggedly, — 


304 


TEA NSPLANTED. 


“ Well, I might as well finish ! Wanted to educate 
me, but I wouldn’t let him ! It’s just like him to do 
this generous thing ; but he is very odd. I should 
not know him, if I should meet him, for he never 
would have his picture taken, and we haven’t met 
since I was a mere baby. I’ll go right over and call 
on him. Who’ll go with me ? ” 

“ I ! ” said Webber. 

“ No, you mustn’t ! I tell you, he’s the oddest man 
living, and he’ll hate you forever, if you thank him ! 
Come, Jacqueline and Bessie.” 

So the three girls, who had now dropped all cere- 
mony with each other, went over to the hotel, and 
asked to see Mr. Hapgood. 

Being shown into the parlor, the old gentleman 
soon entered. He was tall and straight, with keen 
eyes, under dark, bushy brows, and long, silky-fine, 
perfectly white hair. 

He looked at them curiously, and Theo rose. 

“Mr. Hapgood — Uncle Jonas — I’m your niece, 
Theodora Kan some.” 

“You are ! You don’t say so ! Well, well ! ” and 
he clasped her hand cordially, looking her over with 
keen intentness. 

“ What brought you to the mountains ? Are you 
stopping at this house ? Where’s your mother ? 
Who are these young ladies ? ” 


WEBBER'S FIRST PATIENT. 


305 


She answered with military brevity, and a mirthful 
flash of her gray eyes, as keen, and, indeed, much like 
his own. 

“Rest, and a chance to sketch. No. In Portland. 
And these young ladies are my friends at the 
boarding-house, — Bessie Randall, and Jacqueline 
Amory.” 

“Good,” he chuckled, “you’re a Hapgood clear 
through. Your mother’s own girl. Well, well, young 
ladies, I’m happy and proud to make your acquaint- 
ance,” giving a kindly hand to each. 

“ And so ” — going back to Theo — “ you’re the in- 
dependent young maiden who flung my money in my 
face, and wrote me a letter that looked like copper- 
plate, and read like a challenge — are you ? ” And 
he held her with his sharp eyes, evidently delighting 
himself in this study of the girl. 

She drew herself up a little. 

“ You’re wrong, uncle. I appreciated your kindness 
thoroughly ; but sir, you made your way alone in the 
world, and you’re proud of it. I’m a Hapgood, 
too ! ” 

“ So you are. Bless your bonny eyes, so you are. 
I’m glad to know you better, my child,” placing his 
hand kindly on her head, “ but tell me, how did you 
know who I was ? I shouldn’t ever have recognized 
you for the baby I once saw, and you certainly couldn’t 


306 


TRANSPLANTED. 


remember me — by the way, aren’t you those plucky 
girls who helped the young doctor with the baby, 
yesterday ? ” 

“ We were there, uncle, but did not do much ; but 
we found you out through Mr. Webber. He showed 
us your letter.” 

“ Oh, he did, did he ? The rascal ! What did he 
do that for ? ” 

“ I imagine because he was too pleased to keep it 
to himself,” laughed Bessie. 

“ Pleased, was he ? What kind of a fellow is he, 
anyhow ? ” 

“ Splendid ! ” 

“ A fine fellow ? ” 

“ As good as gold ! ” 

The three expressions came simultaneously from 
Bessie, Jacqueline, and Theo. 

“ Ha, ha ! a regular beau, I see ! ” 

“ Not a bit of it,” indignantly, as one voice. 

“ Ain’t, eh? Well, what is he? Rich or poor, 
drone or worker, dude or man ? ” 

“ Poor — worker — man ! ” they cried enthusiasti- 
cally. 

“Ha, ha! Very fine. Well, I must see more of 
this paragon. By the way,” — he snatched out a gold 
time-piece of immense size, and hurriedly consulted 
it, — “I ordered my luggage sent by the 4:10 train, 


WEBBER’S FIRST PATIENT. 


807 


but I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay over a day or 
two. Here, porter,” catching sight of one just pass- 
ing the open door, his arms full of luggage, “just 
put those two Russia leather valises back in No. 550. 
I’m not going to-day,” and he was off in lively conver- 
sation with the girls again. 

His day stretched into a week, which in spite of 
their sadness over poor little Teddy, he made a very 
delightful one ; for with all his white hair, Jonas 
Hapgood was but a boy at heart, and felt that no so- 
ciety could be more charming than that of these wide- 
awake, well-bred young people. As for them, they 
one and all took him right into their hearts, and 
made him so welcome that he put off his going from 
day to day, till he declared amid his laughter, which 
rang out clear and honest as a silver bell, that he had 
dropped into second childhood, and hadn’t sense 
enough left to know his own mind. 

Yet no one neglected Teddy, and the kind atten- 
tions of these young people in staying by his side, 
soon permitted his mother to resume her labors as cook. 
The child’s broken leg healed rapidly, but there were 
times when he suffered paroxysms of pain from his 
other injury. Jacqueline thought about him a great 
deal, and these thoughts finally crystallized into a 
long letter written to her grandmother out of the full- 
ness of her heart, which we will give entire. 


808 


THAN SPL ANTED. 


“ My Dearest Grandma, — Teddy is a little more easy 
now, and his broken leg is nearly well; but oh, isn’t it sad ? — he 
will not walk for years, and perhaps never, and he such a bright, 
fine, handsome boy ! It makes the tears come whenever I 
think of it. 

It would be bad enough if his mother were a rich woman, 
but being so poor, and obliged to take care of herself and him, 
by working in other people’s houses, how is she to manage ? 

Very few would be willing to have a crippled child in the 
house; and, then, he needs more time and care than she could 
give him. 

I have talked with her when sitting here by Ted, and she is 
in perfect despair over their future. 

Now, grandma dear, I tell you all this for a purpose, for 
even before Teddy’s accident I had an idea in my mind (and 
heart, too), which this only makes me feel the more anxious to 
carry out. You know how much I enjoyed that few days I was 
in hospital, for I told you about it once; and I saw people 
had to be turned away from there when just beginning to be 
convalescent, to make room for those who needed care more 
than they. Now think, grandma, what it would be to a child 
still half sick, and weak, and languid, to be sent from hospital 
to some lovely spot where the air was pure, and there were 
plenty of flowers, and delightful views from the windows, and 
where they could stay till perfectly well and strong. 

And, grandma, you know what I said about using dear Aunt 
Patty’s money to help others. Now, this is my idea: To turn 
the cottage into a little — just a little — hospital for convales- 
cent children, where they could come to get thoroughly well 
again. Now, couldn’t we do this, using the interest on Aunt 
Patty’s money, to take care of them? and, oh! couldn’t little 
Teddy be our first patient ? 

Then his mother might get work somewhere near, where she 
could see him often, and feel that her boy was looked after. If 


WEBBER'S FIRST PATIENT. 


309 


the Treats would agree to take him, I know they would be good 
to him ; and I believe they will, if I ask them. That would be 
a beginning, and, in time, we might find somebody else, may- 
be, and so it would go on. 

Please , dear grandma, think this over, and get Mr. Randall 
to consent, also ! 

We are having such a nice time with Theo’s uncle, Mr. Hap- 
good! He’s the youngest, jolliest, and best old gentleman I ever 
saw. Bert and Bessie are off with him and Theo on a double- 
buckboard ride, but I stayed home to write this. 

Please don’t let my idea go to waste! Love to Uncle 
George and Aunt Arl from 

Your own, Jacqueline. 

i 

A few days later came a postal from George, with 
this message : — 

“ Yours received, and under consideration. Wouldn’t won- 
der if your Idea became a Fact! Mother says, write to the 
Treats, and see what they’ll say. Get prices for board, etc., 
for, you know, business method is the backbone of charity! 

Yours, G.” 

Before Jacqueline received Mrs. Treat’s reply to 
the letter she sent off that very day, came a long, 
loving one from her grandmother, which gave the 
permission she desired, and much good counsel. One 
thing she said is worth remembering : — 

“ I am glad, my dear child, that you feel you are but the 
steward of what means you have, and should devote all to 
God’s service; but remember this, also, — you have no more 
right to corrupt others with your riches than to be corrupted by 
them yourself. 


810 


TRANSPLANTED. 


And, when you help others where they should help them- 
selves, you do them real injury, for you take from them the 
bread of independence, which is the only bread a true man, or 
woman, should eat ! Help Teddy’s niother in her sacred 
charge, but do not take it entirely from her. Let her pay from 
her wages every week, something , even if but a few cents, that 
she may still feel she has some care of her boy.” 


It was a happy day for Jacqueline when the matter 
was finally settled by the Treats’ agreement, and Mr. 
Randall’s consent (from California) as guardian. 

She hastened to tell the anxious mother her plan, 
and was quite overwhelmed by her gratitude. 

“ It is the best thing that ever happened to me ! ” 
she said. “ I couldn’t get work here, anyhow, after 
the season is over ; and I know, in a place like yours, 
near a large city, I will be pretty certain to find it. 
As for poor little Teddy, you’ve been a perfect angel 
to him, Miss Amory, and that’s a fact ! I never saw 
such kind people as you all are, any way. And this 
money the gentleman raised for me, will pay all our 
expenses going there, and something to spare, won’t 
it?” 

“ Yes, indeed, but — ” 

“ What’s all this?” cried Webber, entering the 
room where Ted lay with wide-open eyes, listening to 
their talk, his poor, little, white face in striking con- 
trast to that of the sturdy boy we first saw. 


WEBBER'S FIRST PATIENT. 


311 


“ Jetty’s a nangel; ” he remarked, solemnly, while 
his mother added, — 

“ 0 sir ! it’s some more of Miss Amory’s good- 
ness ! ” and she proceeded, most volubly, to pour out 
the whole plan. 

“Why, Miss Jacqueline, is this true?” asked 
Webber with animation, turning to her. 

Jacqueline nodded. 

“ Give me your hand ! It has been the wish of my 
heart to be able to do something of that kind, one 
day, but I fear I never can. I’ll tell you, though, 
when you want a resident physician, send for me.” 

“ I will,” laughed Jacqueline, carelessly, little think- 
ing how these words would some day be verified. 

When the plan was known to the household (for 
the happy mother couldn’t keep still, and Webber 
wouldn’t ! ) there was a sudden accession of interest 
in little Ted again ; while Jacqueline found herself 
pointed out as his benefactress, until she almost 
dreaded to go over to the hotel, because of the sensa- 
tion she created. 

“ Such a little thing to make a fuss about ! ” she 
said to Bessie, who, with an arch smile, aptly quoted 
Shakespeare’s beautiful lines, — 

“ ‘ How far this little candle throws its beams, — 

So shines a good deed in a naughty world.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXL 


Jacqueline’s hobby. 

It was a fortnight later when our young friends 
took the train for home. 

There had been many changes in the household. 
Theo, accompanied by her uncle, had gone home three 
days before, while Mrs. Willey’s and the Chicago 
teachers’ rooms were occupied by other guests ; so 
that, of the original family, there would be left only 
Mrs. Chapman and her children, as Arthur and Web- 
ber were to take the same train with our friends. 
They made quite a company, for, besides the five 
young people, there was Katie Green, the cook, with 
her little Teddy. His leg was quite well now, and 
he could move about some in bed, and sit comfortably 
in a chair or a person’s arms, but any attempt to 
place him on his feet brought forth shrill cries of 
suffering; yet he bore the confinement bravely, and 
was so patient and good that they could not do enough 
for him. A place had been secured for his mother at 
the Talbots’, who were needing a cook, so she need not 
lose any time. 


312 


JACQUELINE'S HOBBY. 


313 


They had a quiet, uneventful journey, parting re- 
gretfully from Arthur and Webber, who agreed to 
keep up a correspondence with Bert, and arrived in 
the late afternoon at the dear home station. Ike was 
there with the carriage, well stocked with wraps and 
pillows for the sick boy, while Jim’s welcoming grin 
was a sight to see. 

A surprise awaited Bessie, for her father stood also 
on the platform to receive her, having unexpectedly 
arrived the day before. 

“ So this is the beginning of the Amory Hospital 
for Convalescent Children ! ” he cried merrily, after 
greetings were exchanged, as he gently held the little 
fellow till his mother had taken her seat in the car- 
riage opposite Bert and Jacqueline. 

The baby smiled up in his face, for Teddy had 
borne the journey bravely; and with unwonted emo- 
tion Mr. Bandall pressed a light kiss on his forehead 
before laying him tenderly in his mother’s arms. 

Then he and Bessie whirled away in the phaeton, 
with promises to see them again soon ; while, at 
Jacqueline’s request, Ike drove at once to the cottage, 
for, though so anxious to meet the dear ones at home, 
they must first see that Ted was comfortable. Mrs. 
Treat met them at the door. 

“And this is Teddy?” she said gently, as she 
welcomed them in; “the little darling! We’ve got 


314 


TRANSPLANTED. 


a dear little bed your grandmother sent, Miss Amory, 
in the small room off mine, and I’ve fixed the lounge 
in the parlor to lay him on now” 

While they took off his things, she brought in a 
bowl of nice bread and milk, which the little fellow 
ate greedily ; then they left him with his mother, who 
was to stay there till morning. 

“ Now, Ike, drive like Jehu!” cried Bert with a 
caper, as they sprang into the carriage, and in three 
minutes they were dashing grandly up the broad drive 
of the dear old home. 

Arlene stood waiting on the front steps, looking so 
lovely in her light summer dress, and just within the 
door-way was their beautiful, beloved grandmother. 
It was a rapturous moment, and Jacqueline was 
almost frightened to feel the tears rolling down her 
cheeks. 

' “ Why, I’m crying ! ” she exclaimed, so naively that 
every body laughed, and then wiped away their own 
tears, finding this joy had been too much for them 
also. 

Then Mrs. Butter and the servants appeared, hurry- 
ing to give their welcome, till the pleasure of it all 
made Jacqueline pale with emotion. 

“ Oh,” she sobbed, “ it is even better than my first 
coming. Can I ever leave such a lovely home 
again ? ” 


JACQUELINE'S HOBBY. 


315 


“ There, there! the child is quite worn out. Jule, 
go with Miss Jacqueline to her room, and help her 
into a loose, fresh wrapper. Now, run along, dear; 
we’re all substantial, and won’t vanish while you’re 
gone,” said her grandmother laughingly, as she waved 
her away. 

Bert had explored every old nook and cranny 
before she reappeared, refreshed by a bath and a 
charming, cool toilet, to be greeted by George, who 
had just come from the train. Supper was scarcely 
over when Mr. Bandall and Bessie came in. 

“ 0 Jaca ! ” she cried, after she had given them all 
a hearty greeting around, “ I do miss you so, even this 
soon.” 

“ Well, well, that’s a compliment to your old father,” 
cried Mr. Randall, with pretended displeasure. 

“No, papa, she can’t take your place,” leaning 
fondly against his chair, “ nobody can do that ; but 
think of poor me when you get buried in those books, 
and the house is so still I long to hear even the 
squeak of a mouse, and am tempted to go out into the 
kitchen where there’s some life and fun, as I used to 
when I was little.” 

Her lugubrious face made them all laugh, but her 
father said thoughtfully, — 

“It is lonesome for you, Queenie. Jacqueline, you 
must give us all the time you can.” 


316 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Indeed,” put in Bert, “ there ought to be several 
copies of Jaca, for Ted will doubtless be howling for 
her at the cottage too ; however, we’ve got the one 
authentic volume, and we mean to keep it.” 

“ Bound in calf, Bert ? ” she laughed. 

“No, bound in muslin, you minx,” touching her 
thin gown. “ Don’t you insinuate that my sister has 
any thing of the calf about her, Miss Amory. I won’t 
stand it.” 

Then Jacqueline’s new plan was thoroughly dis- 
cussed, amid some good-natured teasing from Mr. 
Bandall. 

“ But how are you to get hold of these children for 
your hospital, Jacqueline ? ” he asked, “ for if I un- 
derstand you rightly, they must be a little more than 
ill and less than well, to make a bad paraphrase on 
Shakespeare.” 

“ Dear me, I should think so,” laughed Bessie. 

“ I’m going to keep looking among the poor here 
in town, and I expect if my friends hear of anybody, 
they’ll let me know. I’m going to talk with the 
Treats, and see if they will take any more though. 
I hope they will, for I like their ways. What I 
want is to take in all that the interest money will 
provide for, and have somebody who would be willing 
to care for them.” 

“But of course Mrs. Treat couldn’t do much with- 


JACQUELINE' S HOBBY. 


317 


out help/’ said Mrs. Leavenworth. “By the way, 
Hannah was here, the other day, to see if I couldn’t 
tell her of a place for general housework ; perhaps 
this would be just the thing.” 

“ J ust ! ” said J acqueline, “ Hannah’s so faithful 
and kind. We must see about it, grandma; but Mr. 
Randall, you didn’t give our institution its right 
name this afternoon.” 

“ I didn’t ? And what, pray, may it be, my lady ? ” 

“The Amory-Barnes Hospital! Wouldn’t that be 
better ? ” 

“I’d abbreviate it to the A — B — ” said Bert 
wickedly, “a — b, ab — so appropriate to its infantile 
character.” 

Bert so seldom chaffed his sister that she flushed 
furiously at this, and George hastened to the rescue. 

“It is a kind thought, Jacqueline, to associate her 
name with your own.” 

“And Jaca, my love, you can’t expect to ride a 
hobby and not be guyed a little, now and then,” put 
in Bert, in so wheedling a tone that she couldn’t but 
be mollified. 

And so the conversation ran lightly along, as it 
will after a happy home-coming, taking in the 
home scenes and neighbors, and glancing off to 
the experiences of the journey, until every body was 
surprised to find it almost midnight. 


318 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Scandalous,” laughed Mrs. Leavenworth, as the 
Randalls rose with exclamations of dismay, “our 
young travelers won’t be worth any thing to-mor- 
row.” 

“Well, there’ll be the memory of to-night, any- 
how,” said Bessie. “Yah — ah — h!” with a long 
yawn, “ how sleepy I am ! ” and with last words and 
laughter they finally disappeared in the midnight 
shadows. 

They did sleep late next day, but eleven o’clock 
found Jacqueline at the cottage, inquiring for Ted. 

“Yes, he rested well,” said Mrs. Treat, in response 
to her eager queries, “ and ate a good breakfast. I do 
believe he is learning to like me, too, for he didn’t 
make the least fuss when his mother went away.” 

“ It’s fortunate he became so used to strangers, and 
was so little with his mother ; he won’t miss her so 
much now,” said Jacqueline, too low for him to hear. 
“ Well, Teddy, my boy, how are you to-day ? Do 
you like it here ? ” 

“It’s pitty,” he answered, his big eyes on the 
greenhouse, whose doors were thrown back. “And 
Ted lites dis chair.” 

It was a leather “ sleepy hollow,” well stocked with 
pillows, amid which he sat, surrounded by the toys 
and bright picture-books Mrs. Leavenworth had 
thoughtfully provided before his arrival. 


JACQUELINE'S HOBBY. 


319 


“ That’s right, my good boy ! ” 

“And Ted lites her!” pointing to Mrs. Treat. 
“ Her’s dot dood bed-e-mik ! ” which, being inter- 
preted, meant “ bread-and-milk.” 

Jacqueline laughed, and kissed his sweet lips, well 
pleased, while Mrs. Treat looked on, smilingly. 

“ Poor baby ! ” she said. “ I wish we had another 
child to keep him company. It’s lonesome for 
him.” 

“ Would you take another one, Mrs. Treat ? Now, 
let me tell you all my plan ! ” and so long and inter- 
esting was their talk, that John came very near losing 
his dinner in consequence ! 

But something in enthusiasm is very catching, and 
Jacqueline’s soon fired a like spirit in good Mary 
Treat, until it was evidently only John who would 
interfere at all. However, as what Mary said was 
generally the determining word, there was little 
fear that he would stand out against the two whom 
he thought most of among womankind ! 

To be sure he poohed, and pished, as men will, but 
a few days later came home with a grave face. 

“ Mary,” he said, “ are you in earnest about taking 
in more children ? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered. “ Children don’t annoy me 
as they do most people ; and Miss Amory pays well. 
When Hannah comes, I sha’n’t have any thing to do, 


320 


TRANSPLANTED. 


hardly, and I’m sure another child, if of the right 
kind, would be great company for little Ted.” 

“ Well, I think I know just the one.” 

“ You do ; and who is it ? ” 

“ Well, it’s a little girl of Howe’s — one of our men 
at the mills. She had typhoid fever six weeks ago, 
and don’t seem to get up strong at all, and her little 
white face fairly haunts me! I was there to-day. 
Only three rooms, and six children in them, and she 
lying back on the patched old lounge, with her fin- 
gers in her ears to keep out the noise they were mak- 
ing ! I felt like picking her up, and running off with 
her, poor little thing ! Howe’s industrious and steady, 
after a fashion, but he’s one of the kind that never 
gets ahead, and that little Maggie’s the flower of the 
flock. What do you think ? Would Miss Amory 
have her?” 

“ Indeed she would ! I’ll tell her this very after- 
noon ! ” which she did, with the result that, before the 
next night, an amazed little Maggie lay on the soft, 
wide lounge in the shaded parlor, her face sweet with 
contentment, and a little laugh bubbling up now and 
then at Ted’s odd talk as he sat close by in the big 
chair, while kind Mary Treat sewed contentedly with- 
in arms-reach. 

The change really made things easier for Mrs. 
Treat after a day or two. Rest, quiet, and wholesome 


JACQUELINE’S HOBBY. 


821 


food were all that Maggie needed to make her comfort- 
able and happy ; and happy, comfortable children are 
nearly always good ! 

Each child amused the other, for Maggie, being 
nearly seven, was too old to quarrel with a baby ; but 
she could read his books to him, cut out horses and 
cows of impossible anatomy, build block houses, and 
play quiet little games, which kept him occupied by 
the hour. 

“ It works well, doesn’t it ? ” asked Jacqueline, 
with a pride-ful air, as she and Bessie came in, one 
day, bringing some little cakes and toys for the 
children. 

“ It seems to,” said Mary Treat, in her hearty way. 
“ I begin to feel very proud of my family ! The only 
thing is, I shall get to loving them so I won’t want to 
give them up ! ” and the tears started to her eyes. 

“ Well, we won’t hurry them away,” said Jacque- 
line comfortably ; “ so long as our Board of Managers 
consists only of grandma and Mr. Randall, I don’t 
think we need worry ! ” 

“Yes, you’ll manage them, I’ll warrant!” cried 
Bessie, merrily. “ How do you make every body do 
exactly as you like, witch ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve a touchstone ! ” she laughed. 

“ And what is it ? ” urged Bessie. 

Mary Treat’s eyes were shining. 


322 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ I know,” she said softly ; “ it’s love, Miss Bessie ; 
that’s what it is ! ” 

“ You’ve hit it ! ” was the answer, but Jacqueline 
made haste to turn the conversation to matters less 
personal ; for she had spoken carelessly, without a 
thought of such an interpretation. 

When Jacqueline reached home, that day, she 
found a big, business-like letter laid conspicuously 
upon the hall table, where the address would stare 
her in the face. 

“Miss Jacqueline Amory,” she read. “Who on 
earth is that from ? ” and, tearing it open, soon found 
the signature to be that of Jonas Hapgood. 

It was a characteristic note, in which he informed 
her that, as he was to pass through soon on his way 
to the city, he should do himself the pleasure of call- 
ing upon Mrs. Leavenworth and herself, with their 
permission. 

She glanced quickly at the date. 

“ He says next Friday ; why, this is Friday. Grand- 
ma ! grandma ! ” and, rushing into the library, she 
had soon told her news. 

“Very well, my dear; tell Jule to come and help 
me arrange my dress a little. It can’t be long, now, 
before he will be here” — and, indeed, she was 
scarcely seated again, after her toilet, when the bell 
rang, and a moment later the gentleman was ushered in. 


JACQUELINE'S HOBBY . 


323 


Jacqueline, after a cordial welcome, introduced him 
to her grandmother, watching a little anxiously to see 
what effect they produced upon each other ; but she 
need not have feared. 

He was charmed with the beautiful old lady, and 
she, in turn, quite unbent from her dignity before his 
hearty smile, and keen, kindly eyes. 

They insisted upon keeping him to tea, though he 
said he had rooms at the hotel for the night, upon 
which Mrs. Leavenworth quietly dispatched Jim for 
his luggage, and told Jule to put the green room in 
order. Then she told her guest of the arrangements 
she had made, adding in her courtly manner, — 

“ The old Leavenworth house can not let such an 
honor and pleasure go by, Mr. Hapgood,” which 
utterly disarmed any objections he might have 
made. 

As they strolled out upon the piazza, after tea, he 
turned to Jacqueline, suddenly, and said, — 

“But I haven’t seen the Hospital, yet, Madame 
Manageress; when are you going to show me that?” 

“Now, if you like,” said Jacqueline, eagerly (for, 
as Bert said, this was her hobby), and running for 
her hat and his, she soon rejoined him. 

Just then Bert came around the house, pushing his 
bicycle to the drive. 

“ I’m going over for Bessie,” he said ; “ she’ll never 


324 


TRANSPLANTED . 


forgive us, if we let Mr. Hapgood go without her 
seeing him — you’re not going away ? ” 

“ Only for a short time — we’ll be home soon — 
we’re — we’re going for a walk.” 

“ Oh, ho ! the A. B. is it ? Ha, ha ! ” And his 
teasing laugh floated back to them as he whirled 
down the drive. 

“ What does he mean by that ? ” asked Mr. Hap- 
good, with a twinkle in his own eyes. 

Jacqueline’s face was a pretty mixture of blushes, 
laughter, and annoyance, as she answered, — 

“ Oh’ it’s his teasing ; he calls it my hobby, and 
says I ride it to death. ‘ A. B.’ are the initials of the 
two names I thought I’d like to give it — Amory- 
Barnes.” 

“ Amory — yes, that’s your own — but Barnes, where 
in the world did you get that ? ” 

“ From the lady who left me the property.” 

“ Indeed ! an aunt, or cousin, perhaps ? ” 

“ I called her aunt, but she was really no relation ; 
only a true, good friend — almost a mother — dear, 
dear Aunt Patty ! ” 

Her eyes were full of tears, so she did not notice a 
queer look in his face, but his next question rather 
surprised her. 

“ Was she still Patty Barnes when she died ? ” 
“Yes, sir, she never married. Do you like long 


JACQUELINE’S HOBBY. 


325 


stories, Mr. Hapgood? Would you like to hear 
mine ? ” 

“ Nothing better.” 

“ Then we’ll go around this way, and make our 
walk a little longer;” and, turning from the short 
cut she had first taken, through a part of the Leaven- 
worth grounds, back to the street, she began her story, 
her companion listening with an interest that was not 
assumed. 

It was an unusual thing for Jacqueline thus to go 
into her past, and she could never tell what led her 
to it that evening — perhaps something beyond her- 
self, whose power was not to be resisted. At any 
rate, she did tell it, and that so well that, more than 
once, Mr. Hapgood’s hand went up to wipe away the 
tears — though she was without a thought of the 
great results which were to flow from it. 

When she finished, he said, gently, “ I’m glad to 
know this, Jacqueline — glad to see you don’t let 
prosperity spoil your nature, as it too often does ; 
and I’m very thankful, too, to learn all these good 
things about my old friend and playmate — Patty 
Barnes.” 

“ Your friend ? Did you know her ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ; we were neighbors in a little country 
village up in the Green Mountains, and many’s the 
time I’ve drawn Patty’s sled up hill for her, when we 


326 


TRANSPLANTED. 


boys and girls used to go coasting, winter afternoons ! 
She was a pretty girl, with big, gray eyes and merry 
ways ; every body liked her. Her father moved away 
when she was about nineteen. I was a poor boy then, 
working on a farm, and her father went to the city 
and made money. I lost sight of her, but I don’t 
doubt this Patty Barnes you tell me of is the same 
sweet-natured girl I knew then. Her father must 
have lost his property.” 

“Yes, sir, I’ve heard so — and became a hopeless 
paralytic. Her mother died, too, and Aunt Patty 
took care of him till he died, then she took what 
little was left and came here, where she bought this 
cottage, and lived the rest of her life.” 

As she spoke, she pointed to the pretty, rose-em- 
bowered place — for they were now at the gate — 
and stopping, Mr. Hapgood looked at it long, with an 
unusual sadness upon his face. Evidently, old mem- 
ories were stirring in his soul, and Jacqueline, glan- 
cing shyly at his grave face, wondered if there 
had been any hidden romance in Aunt Patty’s 
apparently sunny life, which she had never even 
suspected. 

“A fine place,” he said, at length, rousing himself 
as if from a dream; then his gaze wandered about 
critically; “yes, a fine place; it has great natural 
advantages, and these grounds could easily be en- 


JACQUELINE’S HOBBY. 


327 


larged. The houses on each side are neither of them 
new, I see.” 

“ Oh, no, sir ; one is very old, and occupied by old 
people, too ; the other is rented to tenants, who come 
and go.” 

They went in, to find Mrs. Treat just preparing to 
carry Teddy upstairs to bed ; but she stopped when 
she heard his joyous cry of “Jetty !” and made them 
welcome. 

Mr. Hapgood always noticed children, and soon had 
both Ted and Maggie laughing over his funny re- 
marks, but he managed, meanwhile, to take a good 
look about him, even getting up for a closer view of 
the greenhouse. 

“ It’s a pretty place, and well built,” he said reflect- 
ively, as they left the door, after a short call ; then, 
stopping to turn back and look it all over again, he 
said, slowly, “ I think you are right in feeling that 
she would be pleased with such a work — she who 
had the kindest heart in the world ! It is the best 
monument one could raise to her memory. It could 
be easily enlarged by additions, which would really 
be an improvement. How many sleeping-rooms are 
there, now ? ” 

“Four.” 

“Is that all ? Very few for a hospital.” 

“ I know, sir ; but so far my hospital is more in my 


328 


TRANSPLANTED. 


mind than anywhere else, Mr. Hapgood ! The inter- 
est of Aunt Patty’s money wouldn’t support many 
more children, anyhow. Of course, Teddy’s board 
offsets the rent, but doctors’ fees, laundry work, and 
other extras take quite a sum. Now there’s the 
wheel-chair I mean to get for Teddy, when he’s a 
little larger, and then, — but there’s no use thinking 
of that ! ” 

“ Then what, little lady ? ” 

“ Oh, I was thinking how I’d like to build a big 
play-room for rainy days, and have swings, and tri- 
cycles, and such things.” 

“ And what does your grandmother say to this ? 
Is she willing to help ? ” 

“Yes, sir, and does, all the time. But I haven’t 
said a word about these things, because I know she 
has pet charities of her own, and a great many ways 
to spend her money. This is my plan, and I must 
work it out myself.” 

“ Still, hospitals are nearly always endowed ; you 
wouldn’t object to help from friends, would you ? ” 

“Dear me, no,” laughed Jacqueline, innocently, 
“ who would ? ” 

Bessie and her father were awaiting them when 
they returned, and they had a delightful evening to- 
gether, Mr. Bandall and the guest fraternizing at 
once. Indeed, the next morning, somewhat to Jacque- 


JACQUELINE’S HOBBY. 


329 


line/s surprise, Mr. Hapgood asked the way to the 
Randall house, saying he would like to make a call 
before he left ; and bidding them good-by at least an 
hour before train time, went over there, Mrs. Leaven- 
worth promising that Jim should take his luggage to 
the station. 

“ He is a fine old gentleman ! ” said she, as the 
three ladies watched his upright figure out of sight 
from the piazza, where they sat with their work. 
“ Did you say he had no family, Jacqueline ? ” 

“ I believe not, grandma. I know he is a widower, 
but I think his wife died very soon after they were 
married — so Theo said. He is rich, and very chari- 
table — would do a great deal more for her, only she’s 
so independent. I wish you knew her, grandma ! ” 

“ I hope to before a great while, — in fact, all your 
particular friends of the mountains. You say Miss 
Theo teaches drawing in the public schools ; don’t 
they have a vacation at Christmas time ? ” 

“ I suppose so — certainly.” 

“ Then why not have them here for a regular, old- 
fashioned Christmas ? ” 

“ Oh, grandma ! wouldn’t that be fun ? Do you 
really mean it ? Bert ! Bert ! ” and she went flying 
down the drive to meet him, and tell the pleasant plan. 

A few days later, as Jacqueline entered the cottage 
gate, she had a glimpse of the children (their number 


830 


TRANSPLANTED. 


now increased by two more little girls, who had been 
“ contributed/’ as Bert said, by George, from the city) 
at play in the back yard, and following their merry 
shouts, came upon them grouped about a beautiful 
little invalid wheeled chair, in which Ted was evi- 
dently learning to make his way about. She stopped 
in perfect astonishment. Certainly, she had not or- 
dered that chair; nor, indeed, had she spoken of it 
at home ; but she had little time to think, as Ted had 
now caught sight of her, and was clamoring for Jetty 
to “ See ! see ! ” while the other children, crowding 
about her, began to explain its wonders. 

Even when Mrs. Treat was asked, she could give 
but little information. 

“ It came Saturday afternoon, addressed to the 
‘ Amory-Barnes Hospital, Care of John Treat/ ” she 
said. “ But isn’t it fine ? So nicely cushioned and 
full of springs ; then see, you can raise or lower it to 
any position, and it moves with a touch. Ted is per- 
fectly delighted, and I could hardly get him out of it 
last night. See, his cheeks are really rosy with the 
exercise,” and she bent and kissed him tenderly. 

A sudden thought flashed through Jacqueline’s 
mind. 

“ I mentioned it to Mr. Hapgood,” she said quickly. 
“ I wonder, could it be ? Did you save the wrap- 
pings ? ” 


JACQUELINE’S HOBBY. 


331 


“ Yes, I think they’re in the wood-shed, yet,” and 
together they hastened to look at them. 

“Yes, it’s from Boston, and wait — see there,” 
and Jacqueline pointed triumphantly to a small 
tag, which had evidently dropped among them when 
they were removed, and which read, “ Sold, to 
Jonas Hapgood.” “It is from him, how kind he is! 
I had intended getting one myself, when Ted was 
older.” 

“ But you see, Miss Amory, this can be lengthened 
out — I’ll show you — and so last him a long 
time,” and together they went back to the garden to 
admire, expatiate, and exclaim, while the proud Ted 
showed off to his complete satisfaction. 

The arrival of this chair was, however, but a slight 
sensation to the one that came a little later. When 
Mr. Kandall, bristling with importance and legal 
terms, came over to the Leavenworth house, he in- 
formed them with proper ceremony, that Mr. Jonas 
Hapgood had placed in his hands, in trust, the sum of 
fifteen thousand dollars, five thousand of which was 
to be used in adding to the house and grounds, now 
known as the Amory-Barnes Hospital, whatever was 
needed, or should be desired, within certain limits, 
by its founder and manageress, Miss Jacqueline 
Amory, the other ten to be invested, and its interest 
applied to aid in the maintenance and support of this 


332 


TRANSPLANTED. 


hospital, in such manner as its Board of Trustees 
should direct. 

“ I had a long talk with him before he left,” Mr. 
Randall added, “ and learned what his idea was ; 
namely, to buy one adjoining lot, to give more room 
for grounds and garden, and build on at the south 
side of the house, a long two-story wing, to form a 
play-room below, and give more bed-rooms above.” 

“Oh,” said Jacqueline, and could say no more, for 
both heart and eyes and throat were full. 

“ Does it suit your ideas, Miss Amory ? ” bowing 
with mock ceremony. 

“ It is too good, too kind ! I feel almost as if I had 
begged it. Oh, how soon can we begin ? ” 

“ To-morrow, if you say so, but there are several 
things I want to speak about first. You should have 
at least two more trustees. I don’t care to have so 
much responsibility ; whom could you suggest ? ” 

“ Must they all live here ? ” 

“Not necessarily.” 

“ Could I have Mr. Hapgood, then ? ” 

“ Certainly, and very proper too, if he’ll consent to 
serve. Who else ? ” 

“Let me see, why, Uncle George. Couldn’t I have 
him ? ” 

“He’d make an excellent one, I’m sure. Then, 
there’s another thing. It seems to me you had better 


JACQUELINE’S HOBBY. 


333 


try and make some new arrangement with the Treats. 
They have shown themselves well qualified to manage 
such a home, and should, when so enlarged, give it 
their whole attention. A man’s time is needed to 
oversee things, manage the garden and greenhouse, 
act as steward, etc. Then it would be more economi- 
cal to keep cows, rather than buy milk as you do now. 
John is a farmer’s son, and would, I think, enjoy such 
work. You could give them their living, rent, and a 
moderate salary, and it would really be an excellent 
thing for them as well as you. Whatever other help 
was needed, we could attend to. I would advise a 
basement laundry under this wing, where the washing 
could be done, and a furnace put in to heat the whole 
house.” 

“Oh,” said Jacqueline again, with cheeks aflame, and 
eyes like stars, “and how many children can we have ? ” 

“ With reasonable economy, this income, added to 
the other, should support twelve, at least ; I think, at 
present, I would limit the number to that. As they 
come and go, you could benefit a good many children 
in one year.” 

“But I get so attached to them,” sighed Jacqueline. 
“ There’s poor little Maggie ; I can’t bear to send her 
home.” 

“Yet there must be method even in charities, 
my dear. Here is a suggestion : why not let it be 


834 


TRANSPLANTED. 


understood that a month is the limit of time a child 
will be kept, unless the parents would then pay its 
board ? Fix this at so moderate an amount that it 
will be possible for a poor laboring man to meet it ; 
and if he is the man he ought to be, and sees his child 
happier and better off than at home, he will be glad 
to feel that he is still doing his duty as a father, and 
not depending on charity. Still, if it is to be a conva- 
lescent hospital, there should be none but sickly chil- 
dren allowed to remain over time.” 

“No,” said Jacqueline, “I suppose not. But Ted 
— he must stay ! ” 

“ Yes, and will come under the rules, as his mother 
is both willing and able to pay the small weekly sti- 
pend agreed upon.” 

“And Maggie’s month won’t be up for ten days, 
yet ! ” she added, so joyfully as to raise a general 
laugh. 

“ I’m afraid it’ll be a dreadfully unorthodox hos- 
pital ! ” laughed Bert, who had entered during the 
consultation. “ If the youngsters are pretty and in- 
teresting, J aca ’ll be sure to forget when their month 
is up.” 

Mr. Bandall held out his hand. 

“ Five dollars fine for slandering this noble institu- 
tion ! ” he cried, merrily, then doubled up the fist to 
shake at the boy. 


JACQUELINE'S HOBBY. 


835 


The latter felt in all his pockets. 

“ Sort of a money -or-your-life concern, eh ? How’ll 
five cents do, for to-day ? I’ll tell you what, though, 
Jaca. I’ll begin saving to-morrow, and when you get 
ready to stock your play -room, I’ll come to the front 
like a Dutch uncle ! ” 

“ Why, you dear boy ! that’s the first thing you’ve 
promised.” 

“ And probably the last, you little beggar ! Come, 
haven’t you had hospital enough for to-day ? I want 
you to get your portfolio and go out sketching with 
me. I’ve got the cart outside, and we’ll drive to the 
lake. Come, you’ve neglected art for charity shame- 
fully of late ! ” 

So the conference broke up, nor would Bert let her 
even refer to the matter again that afternoon, which 
was one of their old, charming, lazy rambles here and 
there, — riding a little, exploring a little, sketching a 
little, and talking a great deal. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 

With fall came school for Bessie and Jacqueline, 
and college for Bert, necessitating a separation they 
all felt was hard to bear. 

Still, Jacqueline was so busy with her own studies, 
and so proud and glad over the rapid completion of 
the improvements at the hospital, that she had little 
time for grieving. 

By the end of November, the wing was ready for 
occupancy, while eleven children were enjoying the 
benefits of this home. 

Mr. and Mrs. Treat had agreed to Jacqueline’s prop- 
osition, and were capital managers. The children 
seemed to love them both, and improved so rapidly 
under their care that they soon ceased to need it ; 
but others were always ready to take their places, 
for the fame of this home for convalescents was 
spreading far and wide, and the neighboring city hos- 
pitals sent many a half-cured little creature, to enjoy 
its benefits. 

Bert, true to his word, saved a generous sum out of 
336 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 337 


his allowance, which was used in buying toys ; and 
he also furnished several pretty sketches, in India 
ink, and water-colors, of his own work, to decorate 
the walls, besides a case-full of his childish books. 
Mr. Randall sent a cabinet of specimens, three tri- 
cycles, and a nursery swing, while Bessie contributed 
more children’s books, and some dressed dolls. Mrs. 
Leavenworth sent several small beds, with the neces- 
sary bedding, George and Arlene a half-dozen little 
rocking-chairs, while the friends of the family, catch- 
ing their enthusiasm, poured in so many gifts of 
every description, that they were really in danger of 
being over-supplied. 

As Christmas approached, Mrs. Leavenworth re- 
membered her promise; and, through Jacqueline, 
issued invitations to Mr. Hapgood, Theo Ransome, 
Arthur Phelps, and Mark Webber, for a fortnight’s visit. 

When informed of this, Ginie rolled up her eyes in 
ecstasy, and forgot herself so far as to say, — 

“ Golly ! Jes like de ole times,” she went on, quite 
unabashed. “ ’Pears like dey’s a cornin’ back to dis 
Leabenwo’th house ! Jule, what you stan’in’ ’round, 
starin’ like a sick goslin’ fur ? You ’n’ I’se got 
sumpin’ to do, now, I tells yer ; jes’ start yer boots !” 
and from that time on, Ginie’s manner was as impor- 
tant and mysterious as if she had been minister 
plenipotentiary to some foreign court. 


338 


TRANSPLANTED. 


To Jacqueline’s delight, every one of the invita- 
tions was accepted, and, as the time approached, 
Ginie grew more mysterious and awful, Jule more 
bewildered, and Jim more bland and unapproachable. 
Mr. Hapgood was to have the green room, Theo was 
to share Jacqueline’s chamber, while the two young 
men would occupy the smaller red and blue rooms, 
opposite Bert’s apartments, using his library for a 
common lounging-place. 

Mark Webber would come on the same footing as 
Arthur, now, for he was a student at a medical col- 
lege, taking a high stand in his classes. 

Bert came a day before the rest, Jacqueline going 
down in the carriage to meet him, and give him her 
warm welcome. On the next day the others began 
to arrive. 

First Arthur, — impatient to see the friends who 
had been so much to the motherless boy ; then Mr. 
Hapgood and Webber, whose trains had united at a 
certain junction not far away ; and, last of all, Theo, 
who had started as soon as her school duties would 
allow. 

Her arrival was at about seven in the evening, and, 
after the surprised horses had brought her to the 
door, and had been led away to the stable (to wonder, 
doubtless, if Ike had started a hack line !), they all, 
with the addition of Mr. Randall and Bessie, gathered 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 339 


about a late dinner, as jolly a table-full as one would 
care to see. 

It would seem (to one who knew nothing about the 
Christmas spread under way) that this dinner must 
be the culmination of Ginie’s greatness ; and the way 
she ordered Jim, Jule, and an extra maid — hired for 
the occasion — about, was almost more than they 
could bear. 

Arthur was looking very well now, and did not 
limp at all. His long sickness had, however, given 
him a delicate appearance, which was not unbecoming, 
though in striking contrast to Webber’s broad shoul- 
ders, and Bert’s long-limbed stalwartness. 

Theo had grown handsome. Her high-bred face 
was full of intellect, and her supple young figure of 
vigor and health. She seemed overflowing with a 
vitality that was all the greater for being so firmly 
restrained to her will. 

George privately informed Arlene that he had 
fallen in love with her on the spot, and it was quite 
evident that her uncle and Mark Webber were in the 
same condition. In fact, few could help a deep and 
genuine admiration for such a fine creature as Theo 
Ransome. 

Webber, too, had improved — grown manly and self- 
respecting; and Arthur’s silly snobbishness seemed 
quite gone. He was the quiet, well-bred gentleman, 


840 


TRANSPLANTED . 


now, giving play to his better nature, and keeping his 
meaner one under control. So there was no jar upon 
the evening’s enjoyment, and Mr. Hapgood, between 
the good dinner and better company, was in a state 
of jollity which set even Mrs. Leavenworth off into 
hearty fits of laughter now and then. 

After dinner, the younger part of the family gath- 
ered around the piano, the elders drawing close about 
the open fire in the library beyond, to listen in quiet 
comfort; but all were weary with their journey, and 
ready to retire at a reasonable hour. 

The next morning breakfast was scarcely over 
when Ike appeared before the door with the great 
three-seated sleigh; while Jim came after with a 
smaller one, and all were invited to take a drive, and 
afterwards to visit “ Jacqueline’s hobby.” 

“Come, Webber,” said Bert, as he took the reins 
from Jim, “suppose you and Theo take the back seat, 
and I’ll ask Bessie to ride in front with me ; ” and, 
nothing loth, the two were soon seated, while Jacque- 
line and Arthur, with Mrs. Leavenworth and Arlene, 
also Mr. Hapgood, drove off in the larger sleigh. 

It was a perfect winter’s morning, each sun ray 
marking its path in gems, while all earth’s un- 
sightly bareness was clothed in the royal robe of 
winter. 

Their gay horses danced along to the music of the 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 341 


bells, and the young hearts — yes, even the older 
ones, — beat to a fuller^ happier measure than usual. 

It was with great pride that Jacqueline took her 
friends through the hospital, and showed Mr. Hap- 
good what a change his generous gift had wrought. 

Teddy was still an inmate, and apparently the hap- 
piest one of all. He had grown taller and stronger, 
and could, at times, bear his weight upon his feet, 
but did not yet attempt to take a step, his wheeled 
chair making him almost independent of help, how- 
ever. 

Mr. Hapgood was immensely surprised to find a fine, 
large, framed crayon portrait of himself in the play- 
room, hanging over the wide, pretty fire-place, with its 
safety fender, and upon turning to the rest for an 
explanation, was completely taken aback to find it 
was the work of Jacqueline. 

“ From memory ? ” he cried, “how could you do it ? ” 

“I sketched you once when we were at Jackson,” 
she explained. “I was just coming home from a walk, 
when I saw you as you sat resting on the piazza, and 
looking thoughtfully off towards the mountains. 
There was something so fine in your expression that 
I sat right down on the grass and put you upon 
paper (for I had my portfolio along), thinking to 
tease you about it afterwards, as Theo had told me 
that you would never sit for a photograph. It hap- 


342 


TRANSPLANTED. 


pened to be a bappy sketch ; but somehow the oppor- 
tunity to tell you didn’t come, and one day last fall I 
came across it, and resolved to try what I could do at a 
portrait. You have a face one doesn’t easily forget, so 
I succeeded better than I hoped,” she added, modestly. 

It was evident Mr. Hapgood felt greatly flattered. 
He looked at it furtively, every little while, and 
finally whispered to Theo, with almost boyish naivete, 
“ How, tell me the truth, Theodora, do I look as well 
as that ? ” 

“ Better!” she exclaimed, with hearty meaning. 
“Ho picture could do justice to your dear, kind face, 
though Jacqueline has done wonders, I confess.” 

“Well, well, I’m not such a rough old bear, after 
all,” he said with complacency, and was really quite 
vain over the whole affair. 

Webber took a great interest in all the sanitary ar- 
rangements, and made a careful examination of little 
Ted. Indeed, he visited the hospital every day during 
his stay, and made many excellent and practical sug- 
gestions, which were acted upon, as well as doing 
quite remarkable things for one of the child inmates. 
(But, if 1 am not careful, you’ll be telling me this hos- 
pital is my hobby next, for here I am rambling off to 
that, when I had set out to tell about an old-fashioned 
Christmas.) 

It came upon a Thursday that year, and they began 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 343 


celebrating the day before. Ike and Jim brought a 
fine tree from the Leavenworth woods, and set it up 
at the front end of the drawing-room, while another 
was mysteriously hidden away in a closet off the play- 
room at the hospital. 

To dress these two trees kept all the young people 
busy the whole day, and while they were lingering 
over the seven o’clock dinner, Jim slipped into the 
drawing-room, and, lighting the waxen tapers upon 
the tree and all the gas-burners in the room, threw 
the doors wide open with much ceremony as they came 
trooping in, Bessie and her father with the rest. 

Above the tree, loaded with its rich fruit, was 
suspended a lovely representation of a cherub with 
spread wings, which seemed hovering over it ; while 
from some unseen corner a fine music-box sweetly 
played a Christmas carol. 

Then from behind a screen appeared Santa Claus, 
himself, “ all in fur from his head to his foot,” with 
a jolly red face, a string of jingling bells about his 
waist, and a pack of toys over his shoulders. 

With a bow and caper which proved that age had 
not yet impaired his vigor, he ran nimbly up the step- 
ladder and began to distribute the presents, to many 
of which were attached rhyming couplets. 

“ Who is it ? ” asked Arthur, but almost instantly 
answered himself. “Why, Bert of course. I might 


344 


TRANSPLANTED. 


have thought when he excused himself from table. 
How well he does it.” 

“ For Arthur Phelps, whose dreamy look 

Proves that he may enjoy a book — ” 

read off old Santa Claus, and Arthur sprang forward 
to receive a handsome volume. 

Other gifts were distributed here and there, then 
Mr. Hapgood received a gold-headed cane with these 
saucy words flung at him, in a voice choked with 
laughter, — 

“ May/mp, good man, you will not care 
To lean upon a canc ; 

But even young folks need support, 

So do not mine disdain.” 

Then Mr. Randall laughed heartily over the follow- 
ing, which accompanied a fine set of “ Classics,” — 

“ One drop less or more, what matter, 

When a man is drowned at sea ? 

One book more or less, dear Pater, 

Can not deeper bury thee.” 

“ 0 you witch ! ” he cried, with a laughing glance at 
Bessie. “ The wretchedness of the poetry is only ex- 
ceeded by the impudence of its sentiment. Wait till I 
get these ‘ classics ’ home and I’ll pay you, daughter 
mine.” 

After a little, Webber was made radiantly happy 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS . 345 


by a magnificent microscope, the united gift of Mr. 
Hapgood, Arthur, and Bert, which bore this legend, — 

“ The ills of life, ignored, grow faster. 

Look into them; they’ll own you master.” 

“ Indeed they shall,” he cried resolutely, “ with this 
microscope I feel like a knight of old, armed for the 
fray. Now, old disease-germs, just give me a chance 
at you,” shaking his fist with such ludicrous earnest- 
ness, that Santa Claus nearly tumbled off his perch 
with laughter. 

Theo was the recipient of a handsome and much- 
needed winter cloak ; and blushed a little at this sly 
fling,— 

‘‘Proud maiden, don’t you dare to scorn me, 

For I surely will adorn thee.” 

“Thank you, Uncle Jonas,” she said archly, aloud; 
then bending towards him, she kissed his forehead, 
and said softly; “I didn’t know you then, uncle.” 

“ Oh, ho ! but you do now. Does that mean if I 
should happen to give you a stick of candy, you 
wouldn’t throw it in my face ? ” 

“ It means you’re just like a father, and I love you,” 
she said warmly, her eyes full of tears. 

“ And if I am, then act as a daughter should,” he 
retorted with meaning, and gave her a return kiss 
which she felt to be the seal of his adoption. 


346 


TRANSPLANTED. 


And so each was remembered many times over, not 
even a servant being forgotten ; then followed music 
and charades, for which the garret had been searched 
after old furniture and dresses. 

They used the small library for a stage, the audi- 
ence being seated in the drawing-room, the portieres 
between making a very convenient curtain, while Mrs. 
Leavenworth’s room, and the dining-room across the 
hall, were handy to dress in. 

One charade consisted of four scenes. 

First — Enter a farmer (George) in top-boots and 
overcoat, carrying a riding-whip, who is evidently 
very angry, and stamps around, complaining about his 
“hoss,” which, having been left a moment, has am- 
bled off with the market-wagon, leaving him miles 
from home. A boy (Arthur) comes in excitedly, car- 
rying an armful of cabbages and turnips, and telling 
how he has seen the “hoss” running away, the 
wagon demolished, and the vegetables strewed by the 
wayside, upon which the farmer exits, wringing his 
hands and groaning over the incorrigible wayward- 
ness of that unprincipled “ hoss ! ” 

Scene second — A kitchen. On the table is a large, 
nice-looking pie. Enter a tramp (Bert) looking very 
brigandish in his false mustache and slouched hat, 
looks furtively about for plunder, remarks, “ A pie — 
a whole pie ! what luck ! ” and, snatching it up, exits 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 347 


triumphantly. Next, a nice old lady (Theo) in 
Quaker costume, cap, and glasses, comes in, ushering 
the minister (Webber) in a white wig, and showing 
him all courtesy and hospitality, expressing her 
joy at his coming, etc. She seats him at the 
table. 

“ It is so fortunate ! ” she exclaims delightedly ; “ I 
have a nice, fresh pie, just baked; you must help me 
eat it ! Let me see — where did I put it ? ” (Looks 
everywhere — discovers it is really gone. Disappoint- 
ment and chagrin.) 

Scene third discovers a dwarfish-looking figure, 
which begins to grow before their eyes. Taller and 
taller it stretches up, till the huddled web of drapery 
about its feet is straightened into long, statuesque 
folds, and its head threatens to graze the ceiling. 

“ Tall ! tall ! ” shouts somebody in the audience, 
and the curtain is drawn. 

Scene fourth is the whole word, and a general 
laugh goes around as the opening curtains display 
two or three couches, placed at regular distances 
apart, each holding a patient; while Webber, with a 
doctor’s bag, and Jacqueline, in a neat nurse’s dress, 
go from one to another, he diagnosing each case in 
the most ludicrous manner, while she doses them with 
his medicines, arranges their pillows, etc., etc. 

“ Jacqueline’s hobby — hos-pi-tal ! hospital ! ” cried 


348 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Mr. Hapgood, and a burst of laughter from the actors 
showed he was right. 

The next and last charade was also of three sylla- 
bles. The first represented Bessie, in pretty morning 
dress, giving her Irishman “ Mike ” a good scolding. 
“Mike,” evidently the stupidest of his race, has mixed 
up her errands, and misunderstood her commands in a 
ridiculous way, and the whole makes a laughable scene. 

The next was a village school, where the scholars 
were being made to stand in a“ row” by their teacher. 

It was evidently hard w r ork, for the boys would 
push each other, and the girls nudge and giggle ; but 
at length her efforts were successful, and, nicely ar- 
ranged, they proceeded to sing, through the nose, the 
good old tune of “Lightly Row.” 

The third scene represented a strong-minded woman 
(Theo), angrily haranguing a meek-looking man (Ar- 
thur) upon the contracted sphere to which her mar- 
riage with him had confined her. 

“ It is ‘ scope ’ I want ! ” she cried, grandiloquently ; 
“ I perish for the want of ‘ scope ! ’ ” and waved her 
hand, which held a book, in such a manner as to hit 
the meek husband over the head ; then loftily marched 
from the room, the suffering partner turning to say, 
gloomily, as he rubbed liis sore head, “It’s evident 
her arm has ‘ scope ’ enough, at least ! ” before meekly 
following. 


AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 


349 


The last scene, representing the whole word, was 
simply and aptly illustrated by Webber, seated before 
his new microscope, evidently intent on something 
beneath its lenses. 

“ I see it,” he began gravely. 

“ And so do we ! ” cried George quickly, from the 
audience, “ it is microscope ! ” 

“Very good!” laughed Webber, and soon actors 
and audience were mingled in happy converse. 

The next morning, after the merry Christmas greet- 
ings and breakfast were over, the big sleigh took all of 
the family, except Mrs. Leavenworth and Arlene, over 
to the hospital, picking up Bessie by the way, to help 
distribute the presents from their tree, which had 
been left till morning, so as not to keep the little 
ones out of their early beds. 

Arrived there, Jacqueline found several more gifts 
had been sent in, so the children were sent to the 
parlor while the tree was placed in position, and 
Santa Claus donned his dress. Then Mrs. Treat led 
the children in and seated them in order, but no at- 
tempt was made to repress their laughter and cries of 
delight, as the funny old St. Nick handed down gift 
after gift, with odd speeches and nursery rhymes, 
meeting the wants of the little ones, which had been 
freely expressed beforehand to both Mrs. Treat and 
Jacqueline. They had to hurry through, in order to 


350 


TRANSPLANTED. 


be in time for church, but they left a rapturous little 
crowd behind, while already the odor of roasting 
turkey, for their noon dinner, filled the house. 

Then a swift homeward drive, -the hasty donning of 
Sunday wraps, and all were off for church, its beauti- 
ful service filling their hearts with the “ peace and 
good-will ” Christ brought to man, that natal day, 
nearly nineteen centuries ago. 

There was an appetizing lunch awaiting their re- 
turn. Then every horse and sleigh their own and the 
Randall stables could furnish was brought into ser- 
vice, to take the young people and the hospital chil- 
dren for a drive. Such a drive ! — with laughter, sing- 
ing, and shouting, above the clamor of the bells, as 
they drove over the long country roads, and out upon 
the frozen lake, for a merry dash that set the blood 
tingling in every vein. 

Teddy, tucked in between Jacqueline and Bessie, 
was the gayest of the crowd ; and, finally, turning up 
his rosy little face, said warmly, — 

“ Jetty, ’tis your Ted! he’s so happy!” and she 
felt the honest words were a real benediction, that 
Christmas Day. 

Home again, and almost dusk; they had little 
enough time to dress for Genie’s masterpiece, the 
dinner. This grand affair lasted from five till seven, 
and was, indeed, a gastronomical feat. It lacked no 


an OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. 351 


appointment of taste, elegance, or luxury — unless we 
consider wine as essential to these, which, happily, 
our friends did not, even Arthur having forsworn 
his old habits forever. 

Dinner well over, other guests began to arrive for 
the evening, and soon the large, handsome rooms were 
well filled with the more particular friends of the 
family. They were soon all engaged in some of the 
best of the old-fashioned games, such as “ Twenty 
Questions,” “How, When, and Where,” “Personal 
Conundrums,” “ Magic Writing,” “Stage Coach,” etc., 
etc., in which all joined, both old and young. 

Of course, Mr. Hapgood was the life of the whole 
affair, and, nobly seconded by Bert and Bessie, kept 
the fun going, till Christmas Day was literally a thing 
of the past, when, with merry good-bys and expres- 
sions of complete satisfaction for their evening’s en- 
tertainment, the guests reluctantly departed, with 
only one regret — that “ Christmas comes but once a 
year.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


PAINS AND PLEASURES OF WEALTH. 

It was in the following May that Bert, eagerly 
watching the college postman as he approached his 
door, reached out a hand for the square, white 
missive, with its rather bold, round hand, which he 
knew to be from Jacqueline, and opening it, read with 
a smiling face, these words : — 

My dear Brother, — You don’t know what a happy house- 
hold we are! Aunt Arl has a little girl — the sweetest dot of 
a creature you ever saw, with big, dark eyes, and a fuzz of 
golden hair about her little, shell-pink ears. O Bert! I wish 
you were here; but it won’t be long till the 20th of June, and 
that will bring you! By that time she’ll be perfectly lovely! 
She’s to have our mother’s name, and mine — Celia Jacqueline 
Harper. What do you think of that? Uncle George is too 
funny for any thing; he holds her exactly as if she were a block 
of wood in a blanket, and makes awful faces! Calls her “ Stick- 
in-the-mud,” and all sorts of outlandish names — that darling 
little angel! But grandma — O Bert! she looks too beautiful 
with that baby in her arms, with her dear, silvery-wliite hair all 
fluffy over her forehead, and that peaceful smile of hers about 
her lips and eyes — but you’ll laugh at my ravings. Bessie is 
just as silly over it as I am, and if she wasn’t so dreadfully 
busy getting ready to graduate, would be here all the time. 

352 


PAINS AND PLEASURES OF WEALTH. 353 


Do you know, I’ve jumped another class, and now stand in 
the second year ? So I won’t be such an old maid when I 
graduate, after all. I had a letter from Theo last week, and 
she’s going abroad, at last, with her Uncle Jonas ; isn’t that 
good ? They expect to sail the 15th, and after three mouths of 
traveling about, will go to Paris, where she is to study in the 
IScole des Beaux Arts the rest of the year, and perhaps longer. 

Arthur passed through, the other day, with his father, on his 
way to Annapolis, where he is to enter the Naval School. 
Think of Arthur a “ middy !” He looks really well, and feels 
sure this kind of life will be good for him. We all liked his 
father, who is a tall, pale gentleman, rather reserved and quiet, 
but very proud of his son. And, indeed, Arthur is a nice boy, 
now. I never saw such a change in any one. 

But I must tell you what a grand thing Webber has done for 
little Katie Gray, who, we thought, would never be well, and 
was to be a fixture, like Ted. After he went home Christmas, 
he studied up her case, and has been doctoring her by corre- 
spondence, till he has actually cured her ! All the doctors say 
it is a wonderful thing ; somebody has written it up for the 
Lancet , and Webber bids fair to become famous before long. 
He has already been offered a professorship somewhere, with a 
fair salary, which I presume he will accept, — so Arthur told 
me. Then he sent a brace, partly of his own invention, for 
Ted, which we put on him every day, and with it he is really 
learning to walk. Just think of it ! If Ted should grow well 
like other people again ! But he shall always be my Ted, just 
the same. 

There ! I believe that’s all the news. Everybody sends lots 
of love, and Celia Jacqueline a darling little kiss. 

Ever lovingly yours, 


Jaca. 


354 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Hooray ! ” shouted Bert so loudly that his room- 
mate, a powerful but indolent looking six-footer, 
looked around, to ask hastily, — 

“ What in creation ails you ? Got a remittance ? ” 
“No, better yet — a chapter of good news ! We’ve 
got a baby, though, at home — isn’t that better than 
money ? ” laughing merrily. 

“ Well, that’s according to one’s taste — when 
you’re rolling in wealth, a little more or less don’t 
matter. By the way, that confounded old tailor’s 
after me again, and where I’m going to raise the 
money I can’t conceive ! ” 

Bert’s brows contracted a little, and the smile left 
his face. This was a chronic complaint of Foster’s, 
which had become something worse than a nuisance 
to Bert, who had “ lent ” him, without being repaid, 
until “forbearance had ceased to be a virtue.” So 
he said rather shortly, — 

“What did you get that last suit for, anyhow, 
Tom ? Your other was good enough.” 

“ Oh, yes ! any thing’s good enough for a pauper 
like me, I suppose — but I don’t know as I enjoy 
last year’s styles any better than you do ! ” 

Bert flushed hotly. He was generous to a fault, 
and such an insinuation cut him to the quick. It 
was true that he was far more favorably situated than 
Foster, whose father could afford nothing like the 


PAINS AND PLEASURES OF WEALTH. 355 


allowance Bert had ; but was it right that he shtmld 
be saddled with that young man’s debts — and espe- 
cially extravagant ones ? 

“It seems to me,” thought Bert, “that if I were 
poor, I’d be independent, at least, and wear rags 
before I’d do such genteel begging as Foster does — 
for that’s all it amounts to. He’ll never pay a cent ! ” 

So, for once, he refused to listen to the broad hint, 
and flung himself, rather disgustedly, from the room. 

The fact is, Bert was finding that riches bring with 
them great cares, temptations, and perplexities. 

To be generous without being gullible, and hospita- 
ble without being prodigal, were sometimes difficult 
questions for a boy scarce twenty to solve. 

For instance, this very night there was to be a 
freshman “spread,” in which he was supposed to 
take a part — and a large one, too. There would be 
beer and wine, of course, and much riot, drunkenness, 
and profanity. It wasn’t the kind of a crowd he 
liked, but what was he to do ? Such a social fellow 
couldn’t live alone, or associate only with the “ moss- 
backs ” and professors. And if he joined this gay 
crowd, could he keep from drinking, and perhaps 
even gambling — as they were apt to do when excited 
by wine ? He had yielded once or twice already, to 
his utter shame and self-disgust, repenting next day 
in dust and ashes — should he go into it again ? 


356 


TRANSPLANTED . 


He was walking along moodily, his hands in his 
pockets, his brows bent in a frown, when a sudden 
“ Hello ! ” reached his ears, and looking up he saw 
Webber standing opposite, with outstretched hand. 

“ Webber!” he cried, “Mark Webber! Where 
did you come from ? ” 

“The station, last — and am on my way to Prof. 
Gaylord’s this minute. But why such a heavy mood 
in my merry friend Amory ? ” 

“ Oh, bothers of one kind and another ; do you 
ever have them, Mark ? ” linking an arm in his, and 
turning to walk with him back across the quadrangle 
of close-clipped grass, interspersed with shaded gravel 
walks. 

“ Who doesn’t ? I’m in a big bother now,” laugh- 
ing a little. 

“What is it, Mark? Can’t I help you? If it’s 
money now ” — and Bert’s ready hand went towards 
his vest pocket. 

“ But it isn’t ! ” quickly arresting the hand ; “at 
least, not in that way. It’s this, Bert. I’ve had 
a call to undertake surgical clinics in the medical 
class here, and also one to the professorship of Greek 
and Latin elsewhere. The former is in my line, but 
only pays about half as much ; now, which had I 
better accept ? I need money, but I need to keep 
on in my own work, too. I can live and save some- 


PAINS AND PLEASURES OF WEALTH. 357 


thing on eight hundred a year, but fourteen hundred 
is better, and would enable me to make some head- 
way with the medical library I’m trying to start. 
It’s a little hard to decide, my boy ! ” he ended, with 
a cheerful air. 

“I declare, Mark, I wish you had the money, and 
I didn’t — you’d make a good use of it, and it only 
bothers me ! Now, see here, what’s a fellow to 
do ? ” and he gave a detailed account of his own 
dilemma. 

“ It seems to me that’s not so hard to solve, Bert, 
though, I grant you, it would be easier if you were 
poor ; then you’d be gently let alone ! But a man 
has only to take a stand and keep it, and people soon 
begin to allow him his own way without question or 
comment. The only really hard place is on the shift- 
ing ground of indecision — you can’t serve God and 
Mammon ! And this is a case where those words 
apply with peculiar force. If you’re known as a gay 
chap, always in for every thing, questionable or not, 
you’ll have to give up and go the gait — and it’s a 
pretty rapid down-hill stride ! But if you are known 
as a Christian — manly, upright, and with a mind and 
conscience of your own — you’ll soon be left alone by 
those who would drag you down. They may call you 
a 1 moss-back,’ but who cares ? Such names can’t 
hurt, but excesses and degrading pleasures will — 


358 


TRANSPLANTED. 


body and soul both. There’s one thing, Bert, you’ve 
brought me to a decision — I’ll take the surgical 
clinics and eight hundred ! I’ll stay here, and we’ll 
see if it isn’t possible to rake up a crowd of bright, 
lively, wide-awake fellows, who can be funny without 
being vulgar, and enjoy a good £ spread,’ now and 
then, without liquor.” 

“No, no, Webber, not for me! Don’t give up 
better prospects on my account.” 

“I don’t believe they were better, Bert. I felt 
inclined to this all the time, but thought that I 
oughtn’t to let the bigger salary go by. But money 
isn’t every thing, and now I’m decided — here I stay ! 
Who’s your room-mate, my boy ? Are you much 
attached to him ? ” 

“No, he’s a sponge ! That is — I didn’t mean that, 
but — ” 

“ Oh, well ! ‘ it’s a good word — let it stand,’ as 
Shakespeare says, doesn’t he? I’ve no doubt it’s 
applicable. What I was thinking was, that I’d like 
to room with you — that’s all.” 

“Would you? Good! I’d ask nothing better. I 
can fix it easily, too ; for Foster has been talking a 
good deal lately about joining a club, so I don’t 
believe he’ll raise any objection to the change. But 
tell me, Webber, for here we are at Prof. Gaylord’s, 
why do you take so much pains for me ? ” 


PAINS AND PLEASURES OF WEALTH. 359 


Webber looked him in the face a moment, then 
said gently, — 

“Bert, I stood on shifting ground once myself, and 
your sister reached me out a helping hand. Do you 
think I could repay her better than by doing as much 
for the brother she loves better than herself ? ” 

Man as he called himself, the tears leaped to Bert’s 
eyes, and a sudden memory of that sweet sister — 
loving, unselfish, living for others — came to him like 
a breath from a purer clime. 

“ Mark,” he said huskily, wringing his hand, “ I’d 
be a brute if I did go wrong ! God has sent you just 
in time ! ” 

Mark did stay, and the consequent changes and 
labors of that day, in helping the lazy Foster out 
and the active Webber in, gave a sufficient excuse 
for declining to assist at the “ spread ” that evening. 
Instead, the two young men took a long stroll in 
the sweet May twilight, having a delightful, ram- 
bling talk over past, present, and future, and return- 
ing with clean souls and refreshed bodies to their 
rooms ; while many a poor young fellow that night 
entered the downward road, and went to his heavy 
slumbers, to awaken disgusted, stained, and mis- 
erable ! 

It was a glowing letter that Bert wrote home next 
day, and it relieved the minds of all the family ; for 


360 


TRANSPLANTED. 


somehow his missives had not been quite satisfactory 
of late ; there was a vein of recklessness running 
through them that was not like the old Bert. 

It was a great relief to feel that such a young man 
as Webber was domiciled with him ; and when vaca- 
tion approached, the latter received so warm an invi- 
tation from Mrs. Leavenworth (in which the whole 
household joined) to spend it with them, that he 
could not refuse. 

When Bert and his friend arrived, they found Ike 
awaiting them with the cart, while Jacqueline and 
Bessie stood upon the piazza of the dear old home, 
watching for them as they drove into the grounds, 
across the long slanting shadows of the June after- 
noon. 

Arlene was sitting there, too, a fluff of fine white 
linen and lace across her lap ; while grandma was just 
within the French window of the drawing-room. 

A stranger would have noticed but little difference 
in the warmth of the greetings given the two, for 
Webber, through his kindness and loyalty to Bert 
and his grand deeds at the hospital, had made him- 
self almost a son of the house. 

To be sure, Jacqueline did not hang about his neck, 
but Mrs. Leavenworth gave him a very tender kiss, 
and called him “ her dear boy ” in such a way that it 
touched him to the heart. 


PAINS AND PLEASURES OF WEALTH. 361 


Then the baby was handed about, Arlene watching 
in an agony, for fear they should hurt the dainty 
bundle. 

In the midst of this George’s hearty voice crying, 
“ Drop that eyester ! ” came from the drive, and set 
them off into a gale of laughter. George so seldom 
used slang, that such an outburst was very effective. 

The young father was the next to catch up the 
tiny creature, Bert watching him with an amused 
air. 

“Now, really, Uncle George, you aren’t so bad — 
quite graceful, indeed ; from Jaca’s letter I thought 
you’d be about as handy as a cockney at sea ! ” 

“ Oh ! I’m learning,” he laughed, giving the infant 
an extra toss that brought a scream from his wife, 
indignant protests from the girls, and shouts of 
laughter from Bert and Webber. 

“ Give me that child at once ! ” said Bessie with 
majesty; “the idea of turning her upside down in 
that fashion — b’ess its itty heart ! there ! there ! ” 

Bert dropped on the upper step, and doubled up in 
an agony. 

“ 0 Bess ! you’ll be the death of me ! ” he gasped. 
« Why, you’re worse than old Ginie herself ! ” and he 
rocked to and fro, the mirthful tears in his eyes. 

Bessie was highly indignant. “ Ginie, indeed ! 
She has some manners, at least ! Nice example to 


862 


TRANSPLANTED. 


set your cousin, isn’t it ? Now, if you’ll get up 
and behave yourself, and sit down in that rocking- 
chair, I’ll let you hold her five minutes — perhaps ! ” 
And Bert at once complied, with an air of such 
meekness and patience, that even Bessie had to 
succumb to the universal merriment. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Jacqueline’s ride. 

Jacqueline was one of those lovely souls who ask 
so little that every one is anxious to lavish gifts upon 
them; so, when Mrs. Leavenworth announced that 
she thought the child needed more exercise, and was 
going to buy a pony for her birthday gift, everybody 
wanted a hand in the matter ; so George and Arlene 
bought the habit, Bert a beautiful saddle, cushioned 
luxuriously enough for a princess (if, indeed, prin- 
cesses need any more than common people), Bessie 
a whip with a dainty handle of mother-of-pearl, and 
Webber as fine a pair of riding-gloves as he could find 
for her little hands ; and, after breakfast, being art- 
fully inveigled out to the piazza by concerted action 
of the family, she found Jim displaying every ivory 
in his head, as he led a little black thorough-bred, 
richly caparisoned, up and down before the door. 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, not specially noticing the side- 
saddle, “you have a new horse, Bert. What a 
beauty ! ” 

“No,” said grandma, just behind her, “it is not 
363 


364 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Bert’s, but Jacqueline’s. I’m glad you admire it, my 
dear.” 

“ Mine ? My very own ? 0 grandma, my dar- 

ling grandma ! how could you know I have always 
longed to ride ? ” 

“Not by your telling, certainly, for you never seem 
to want any thing, except what you have ; but there 
are few young girls who don’t enjoy riding, so I 
thought you ought to try it. Come, Jim, help Miss 
Jacqueline on, and lead her about the drive a little, 
till she gets used to the motion.” 

But Bert was before him, and instructed Jacqueline 
how to place her boot firmly in his palm, and, with a 
firm grip of the saddle-pommels, lift herself with a 
spring to her place in the seat ; then as he led her 
about, gave her further instructions, until Jacqueline, 
always graceful, soon caught the idea, and learned to 
sway with the horse, and, while keeping her spine 
perpendicular, let every joint and muscle be as flexi- 
ble as india rubber, until, in time, there should be 
perfect unison between horse and rider. 

“ I’m learning,” she cried gayly, as flushed and ex- 
cited, her hair flying about her face, they stopped 
before the steps after several rounds. “Now, 
Bert, let me try it alone once ; I’m sure I can 
manage.” 

With smiling faces they all watched her, as, grow- 


JACQUELINE'S BIDE. 


365 


ing more courageous, she urged her horse into a can- 
ter, and came breathlessly back again. 

“ It’s delightful,” she gasped, “ only it shakes one 
like a pepper-pot. But I feel as if I had wings, and 
could fly through the air. I don’t wonder we say, ‘ as 
happy as a bird . 9 ” 

All laughed at her pronounced pleasure, and as 
Bert helped her to dismount, he called, — 

“ Ike ! Ike ! bring Sultan around for me, won’t 
you ? Now get on your togs, Jaca, and we’ll have a 
sure-enough ride.” 

“ My — what ? ” 

“Come,” said Arlene, holding out a hand, “you 
haven’t had our birthday remembrance yet — George’s 
and mine ” — and leading her into Mrs. Leavenworth’s 
room, she displayed the habit of hunter’s green, spar- 
ingly decorated with gold braid, and the little English 
hat which accompanied it. 

Jacqueline was quite overwhelmed, but as she came 
out again to display herself, Mark Webber, with a 
low bow, and some light words that covered real feel- 
ing, handed her the beautiful gloves, while Bessie, 
who had run breathlessly over, produced the exquisite 
whip. 

“You’re too good to me,” exclaimed the girl, 
whose seventeen years now seemed all flooded with 
sunshine, and, with a heart full to bursting, she 


366 


TRANSPLANTED. 


was lifted lightly to the saddle by Bert’s sturdy 
young arm. 

“ Beautifully done,” cried George, clapping his 
hands enthusiastically ; and amid merry injunctions 
and good-bys, they rode away, as fine a young pair as 
one would care to see on a summer’s morning. 

It wasn’t many days before Bessie and Mark joined 
them ; the former on her own pony, and the latter 
upon Sultan’s mate. Indeed, the equestrian fever 
kept spreading until they sometimes mustered a regu- 
lar cavalcade of several couples, and though some of 
the mounts would have made a horseman smile, they 
all jogged along after a fashion, and furnished health- 
ful pleasure for the young folks. 

They had started out, one August evening about 
sundown, eight of them, — Lou Talbot and her brother, 
Fannie Gilbert and George’s brother Carl (who had 
come to finish up his summer’s vacation), with our for- 
mer four, when some one proposed an eight-mile ride 
to a pretty village by a lonely road, partly through a 
strip of woods. 

So they cantered along, sometimes in a promiscu- 
ous group, again pairing off to make a race over some 
fine, level strip of ground, all so engaged with their 
horses, their visiting, and the glory of the sunset be- 
fore them, that they did not especially notice the heav- 
ens behind. Suddenly an exclamation from Charlie, — 


JACQUELINE'S HIDE. 


867 


“Look at that sky” — made them all glance back 
quickly, to see that the eastern horizon was covered 
by dense, angry-looking storm-clouds. 

Even as they looked, a jagged flash of lightning 
rent the black curtain, and the sullen, quivering roar 
of distant but heavy thunder smote their ears. 

“We must go right back,” cried Lou in affright. 
“I’m dreadfully afraid of thunder and lightning — 
oh, dear ! ” as another vivid flash half blinded her. 

“ Especially thunder,” exclaimed her brother with 
mild sarcasm ; “ it’s so dangerous ! ” 

“ I don’t care, it sounds dangerous, anyhow,” was 
her retort, as they wheeled their horses to gallop 
towards home. 

But this was only riding into the storm, and soon 
they began to meet its rushing gusts of wind and 
first dash of water-drops, like the peppering grape- 
shot of an advance-guard in battle. Then, in a burst 
that left them no breathing space, the real artillery 
began. They were bombarded with hail for mus- 
ketry, while the heavy roar of the sky-cannon seemed 
almost continuous. 

The horses crowded together, and became almost 
unmanageable. 

Charlie was mounted on a livery horse, which had 
been restive all the evening, and now, resentful of 
this close crowding, suddenly stopped, and began 


868 


TRANSPLANTED. 


kicking right and left. Charlie kept his seat, but 
one of the brute’s heels flew up against Jacqueline, 
so that she felt, simultaneously, a sickening pain in 
her ankle and the quivering leap of her horse, as, 
hurt and frightened, he tore from the group and 
carried her onwards. 

He was a small beast, but wiry, and full of nerve 
and fire, while her girlish slimness made but a light 
weight for his back. 

Maddened by the pain, and the fury of the ele- 
ments, he tore away, -while the first shouts of dismay 
from the rest of the group were quickly lost in the 
distance. 

Jacqueline never knew how she held on, for, giddy 
with the pain in her leg, blinded and beaten by the 
storm, and dazed by the suddenness of his forward 
leap, it was only the ever-present instinct of self- 
preservation that made her cling, as she did, to the 
pommels of her saddle, without attempting to guide 
or control her horse. 

On, on they dashed, fortunately along a straight 
road; and now the hail changed to a pouring rain, 
that wet her to the skin, but relieved her of the fear- 
ful faintness which had at first threatened to over- 
come her. 

Every leap of her horse gave her intense pain, 
but she soon began to gather up the reins (and 



On, on they clashed 
— Page 368. 


and now the hail changed to a pouring rain. 





































1 
































JACQUELINE'S RIDE. 


369 


ner own courage), and tried to quiet the frightened 
creature. 

“ So, Prince, so ! Beauty, whoa ! whoa ! ” she said 
with firm gentleness, pulling strongly upon the bit, 
and was gratified to find that the intelligent beast 
noticed her presence, and slightly checked his speed. 

Little by little she succeeded in regaining partial 
control, until she had brought him down to a nervous 
canter, when she began to notice behind her the 
hard gallop of other horses in the distance. 

As Prince heard it also, he started nervously, and, 
spite of all her efforts to quiet him, bolted again. 

It was now quite dark, and the fiercest of the 
storm was passed, but the rain still fell in a gentle 
downpour. From her left, the town lights began to 
gleam out, — she was nearing home. Now if she could 
keep her strength a little longer, — but this was her 
last conscious thought, for just that instant her horse 
swerved suddenly at something by the roadside, and 
the next was dashing along, — riderless and free. 

He made straight for home, and Ike, who was 
watching anxiously by the great gates (for all the 
household were greatly worried over the absent ones), 
started with horror to see Miss Jacqueline’s pony 
coming home without his mistress. 

He caught the bridle of the tired creature, and 
hastened with him to the stable, groaning as he went, 


370 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“Oh, the little miss ! the little miss ! What’ll us do 
now ? ” Then he raised his voice in a loud call for 
Jim, who, appearing from the kitchen, was soon 
mounted on the last remaining horse in the stable, 
and dashing up the road ; while Ike, after giving the 
foaming Prince a hasty and almost mechanical rub- 
down, went into the house to tell the dreadful news. 

“I can’t bear to,” he muttered. “I’ll make Ginie 
do it.” 

But Mrs. Butter happened to be in the kitchen, and 
it was she who took in the alarming intelligence, 
breaking it as gently as possible. 

Mrs. Leavenworth turned from the window, where 
she had been uneasily looking out into the dark- 
ness, while Arlene and George started from their 
chairs. 

“ ‘ If I am bereft of my children, I am bereft,’ ” 
said the former, with a blanching face, as she sank 
upon a chair. “ What shall we do ? ” 

“Jim has gone” — began Mrs. Butter. 

“Tell Ike to get a livery rig at once, — an easy 
carriage,” said George, buttoning up his coat energeti- 
cally. “ She has been thrown. Arlene, have a fire 
built in mother’s grate ; it is chilly to-night, and let 
every thing be ready for her there. We may not be 
able to get her upstairs. That will be best, mother ? ” 

“Yes, George.” 


JACQUELINE'S RIDE. 


371 


The old lady seemed to have lost all strength, and 
sat helplessly moaning, with a pitiful white face. 

Meanwhile Jacqueline, quite unconscious, lay in a 
little sombre heap by the roadside, while Bert and 
Webber, urging their horses onward m a desperate 
effort to overtake her ftying steed, passed in the dark- 
ness, entirely oblivious of what they were leaving 
behind them. She had been thrown near the small 
house of Pat Flynn, and it was a little dog belonging 
to the children which came to her rescue, first licking 
her face, then running to the house door and barking 
furiously. 

“ Now, phwat’s got into the crathur ? ” exclaimed 
Pat, angrily, to his daughter Norah, who had just 
been giving him a late supper after the younger 
children were in bed. 

“ Do go and see, pa ; it must be something’s wrong,” 
was her answer ; and, lighting his lantern, he went 
cautiously out, following the dog’s excited movements 
till he came to Jacqueline, upon which he raised an 
outcry for his daughter. 

“ Hurry, Norah, to howld the lanthern. It’s a gal, 
and she’s kilt intirely, I’m a-thinkin’. Eun, run ! ” 
and the trembling girl was quickly at his side. 

He lifted the unconscious figure gently, and, carry- 
ing it inside, laid it lightly on a lounge. 

“ It’s the little leddy at Leavenworth’s,” cried 


372 


TRANSPLANTED. 


Norah, as she caught sight of the face ; “ that sweet 
Miss Jackleen what helped us so. Oh, dear, dear! 
I’m fearful she’s dead.” 

“ Fetch the camphor, child, and loose her dress, 
while I wake Jud to run to the house an’ tell ’em. 
Ah, woe’s me ! but it ’ll be a sorra night for thim 
now,” and he briskly chafed the lifeless white hands. 

Just then the rest of the riders went thundering 
by, but though he ran to the door and shouted after 
them, the noise of their horses’ hoofs drowned his 
voice, and they kept right on, eager to find what 
would be the result of Jacqueline’s mad ride. 

Then he hastened to wake the bewildered Jud, 
bidding him bring “ the folks from Leavenworth’s and 
a docther.” This the boy hastened to do, with one 
startled glance at the motionless form on the lounge. 

As he returned to Jacqueline’s side her eyes slowly 
opened, and she looked up in his face with the dazed, 
wondering glance of a soul just awakened. 

Where am I ? ” she whispered. 

“ Don’t you know me, Miss Amory ? ” asked Norah’s 
pleasant voice. “You’re quite safe wid us. Please 
take a sip o’ this ; it ’ll make you betther.” 

Jacqueline swallowed the mixture, then said, — 

“ My ankle hurts. Could you take off my boot ? ” 

As Norah did so, she uttered an exclamation. 

“ Oh, but it’s mashed bad, miss. What’s happened ? 
Is it broke ? ” 


JACQUELINE'S RIDE. 


373 


“Some one’s horse kicked me, I think. There 
were a good many together,” she said faintly. 

“ Wait an’ I’ll bathe it,” said Norah briskly. “Ah, 
but it’s a bad bruise ! Pa, see if there isn’t some hot 
water left over yet. They say that’s good for sprains 
and such.” 

By this time Bert and Webber had reached home, 
to find George just starting out with the carriage. 
He told of the horse’s coming home; so, leaving 
their steeds to Ike’s care, they sprang in beside him. 
Bert talked in almost hysterical excitement, Webber 
keeping grave and still, but occasionally suggesting 
something to do. They met the cavalcade of fright- 
ened equestrians just a little way out, and stopping 
them, found no one had seen or heard any thing of 
Jacqueline. 

“We’ll get these girls safe home,” said Carl, “and 
then come back and help you find her.” 

“ And I shall stop at your house, Bert,” called Bes- 
sie’s tearful voice, “ until we know something definite.” 

So they parted, and the carriage proceeded slowly ; 
George holding out a lantern and looking carefully 
from one side of the carriage, Webber doing the same 
from the other, while Bert, almost unmanned, looked 
everywhere, and thought he saw her at every turn. 

As they approached Pat’s small house, a boy sud- 
denly called out from the roadside, — 


374 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Say, be you a-lookin’ for a girl that got throwed 
off a horse ? ” 

“Yes, yes,” cried all. 

“Well, she’s to our house, just beyond. Have you 
got a doctor ? ” 

“Yes,” said George, “get up by the driver, quick, 
and show him the way.” 

“ Is she much hurt ? ” called Bert, in tones of in - 
tense anxiety. 

“ Dead, I guess,” was the laconic answer. 

Bert sank back with a groan, and for the rest of the 
way there was not a sound in the carriage, as each 
tried to comprehend the whole height and depth of 
this terrible news. 

Imagine their relief when, upon entering the little 
room, Jacqueline smiled up at them in welcome. 

She was ghastly pale, to be sure, and evidently 
suffering, but the relief was so great to Bert that, 
after one kiss, he ran from the room, and sitting down 
on the doorstep without, sobbed like a baby. 

Meanwhile, Webber was examining the bruised 
ankle with a grave face, and with George’s and 
Norah’s efficient aid, soon had it thoroughly dressed 
and bandaged. 

“The bone is hurt some, I think, Jacqueline,” he 
said, as he finished, “ but I hope time will heal it. 
You have borne this bravely ; now a little more pa- 


JACQUELINE’S RIDE. 


375 


tience and we will have you safe home. Norah, could 
you go with us ? Mr. Amory isn’t much good to-night, 
and I want some one to support her ankle every 
instant, so that it won’t get the slightest jar, or 
strain, while Mr. Harper and myself carry her to the 
carriage.” 

“Yes, sir, I’ll do any thing for Miss Amory,” was 
the quick response, while her father added, — 

“You stay till they’ve done wid ye, Norah. We’ll 
manage alone, and there’s nothin’ too good for this 
young leddy, what’s been so kind to the likes of us.” 

Bert, ashamed of himself, now entered and aided 
somewhat in carrying her out, and, as every one was 
determined to save her all possible suffering, they 
managed to make her comparatively comfortable. 
They met Carl and Charlie just after starting, who, 
finding things were better than they had hoped, 
turned back with them. 

“ Carl,” called George, after a little, “ if your horse 
can stand it, ride on ahead, and tell them just how 
it is.” 

“ All right,” said Carl, as he urged his weary beast 
forward. 

He reached the house to find it in an uproar. Jim, 
who had taken some turn by which he had missed 
the returning riders, was back with no news to tell, 
and frightened quite out of his none too brilliant 


376 


TRANSPLANTED. 


wits ; Ginie and Jule were wringing their hands and 
howling darky fashion ; Mrs. Rutter, pale and nerv- 
ous, was flying about, trying to get things ready for 
any thing that might have happened ; Arlene, pale, too, 
but quiet, was vainly trying to hush her crying baby, 
who had been roused by all this excitement ; while 
Bessie and Mrs. Leavenworth literally wept in each 
other’s arms, utterly regardless of Mr. Randall, who 
walked the floor, and almost angrily insisted that 
things would come out all right in the end. 

Carl’s entrance, seeming to confirm his words, 
brought glad relief ; and when Jacqueline was gently 
carried in, and deposited upon her grandmother’s bed, 
every one restrained himself, to be as quiet and help- 
ful as possible. 

Jacqueline was suffering intensely, and could say 
but little. Her wet clothes added to her discomfort, 
and long chills shook her weakened frame. It seemed 
to her she had never appreciated a good bed before, 
when her clothes having been almost cut away, she 
lay at length in the clean, dry sheets, with soft 
heated blankets wrapped about her. 

A little prayer of thanksgiving was her last drowsy 
thought, as yielding to the opiate Webber had given 
her, she dropped away into that strange fitful slumber 
of pain and illness, when the tortured nerves yield, 
perforce, to the power of the slumberous drug. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


CONCLUSION. 

Prosperity is apt to show us our enemies, adver- 
sity our friends, but sickness seems to turn all to 
sympathizers. 

At least so it seemed to Jacqueline, when she was 
able to think about it at all, for each vied with the 
other to do for her. The door was besieged by 
anxious inquirers, and her room might have been 
either a bower or a bakery, from the amount of flow- 
ers and delicate viands that were sent in. 

But for three weeks it was all lost upon poor little 
Jacqueline, as she lay restless and delirious in the 
fiery grip of fever. 

A physician was called from the city to assist 
Mark Webber, and Mrs. Rutter was her faithful and 
efficient nurse. Her ankle was badly injured, and 
added to the suffering and fever, while the shock to 
nerves and brain had been very great. 

After a fortnight of this wearing illness there 
came a day when every thing in the house was hushed 
to a stillness that made even the buzz of a fly seem 
377 


3T8 


TRANSPLANTED. 


harassing. Arlene, with nurse and baby, had gone 
over to Bessie’s to insure greater quiet ; Grandma 
Leavenworth sat with clasped hands, praying in her 
chair; Bert wandered restlessly about the garden- 
walks; two doctors consulted with Webber in the 
dining-room ; while Mrs. Butter never left her pa- 
tient’s side. Jacqueline was asleep, and when she 
woke, then would be the hope of life, or the certainty 
of death. 

All the afternoon and night she lay in that deep, 
strange slumber, so like its sister — death — and 
sometimes they had difficulty in determining whether 
the breath had not, indeed, left her body. 

The dawn presaged a lovely day, with its languor- 
ous summer heat lightened by a fresh breeze. The 
curtains in the sick-room swayed lightly to and fro, 
and the brilliant sun-rays stole in through every 
chink in the closed shutters ; a fresher, purer air per- 
vaded the room, reviving the watchers after their 
silent vigil, and then, from the bed, came a faint 
voice, — 

“ Grandma ! ” 

In a moment, her grandmother stood by her side, 
summoned from the next room by Mrs. Butter. 

“Yes, darling,” she said, bending over her, but 
trying to suppress all emotion in face and voice. 

“ Grandma — have I been — sick ? ” 


CONCLUSION. 


379 


“ Yes, my child, and the doctor wants you to take 
this now ; drink it and don’t try to talk ; just sleep 
and rest.” 

Obedient always, Jacqueline swallowed the strength- 
ening draught, and again closed her eyes to drop soon 
into a natural, refreshing slumber, for she had passed 
the crisis, and would live. 

Another fortnight and she began to seem quite like 
herself, reclining luxuriously in a large invalid chair, 
and trying to hold her part in the subdued talk around 
her; though she was still a very pale, thin, little 
Jaca, her large dark eyes in her white face looking, 
as Bert informed her, “ like burnt holes in a blanket.” 

Her ankle was improving, but would keep her on 
the couch for some time. 

“And you may be thankful it is no worse, my 
lady,” said Webber, with a shake of the head. “I 
was fearful at one time that you would have to go 
on crutches for months, but your active, temperate 
life is greatly in your favor, and the injured bone has 
behaved splendidly. Two or three weeks more, and 
you’ll be as brisk as ever.” 

They were not unhappy weeks, though very quiet, 
as the boys had all gone back to college. Jacqueline 
was one of those fortunate creatures who have re- 
sources of entertainment within themselves ; she loved 
to read, to sketch, even to lie and think ; she could 


880 


TRANSPLANTED. 


feast her eyes on the scene from her room window, 
her ears on Arlene’s soft piano-playing in the draw- 
ing-room, and when these failed her could lie in utter 
peace and stillness, wrapped in her own happy 
thoughts of good-will on earth and hopes in heaven. 

At length there came a day when, supported on 
George’s arm, she walked out to the dinner-table, and 
sat in her old place, surrounded by those who had 
grown the dearer by their tender care, and patient 
love. 

It was Thanksgiving, and Bert and Mark had run 
down to stay till Monday. Mr. Bandall and Bessie 
were also present, and Mr. and Mrs. Case, who had 
greatly endeared themselves to all the family by their 
thoughtful attentions during Jacqueline’s illness. 

With a brace to support her weak ankle, Jacqueline 
could walk quite well, and looked very graceful and 
sweet in her trailing blue wrapper, with the fine lace 
shading her white throat, and transparent little 
hands. 

“Keally, Jaca,” cried Bessie, with pretended envy, 
“ you look prettier than ever ; how do you manage it ? 
Now, when I’m sick I’m a gaunt, bloodless fright.” 

“ The idea ! ” laughed Jacqueline. “ You couldn’t be 
a fright if you tried. But oh, Bessie, how nice it does 
seem to feel I am all here ! Supposing I had had to 
lose my foot as that dreadful doctor suggested ! ” 


CONCLUSION. 


381 


“ Gracious ! ” cried Bessie ; “ did you hear that ? ” 
while Webber started and looked around. 

“ Were you conscious then ? ” he asked surprisedly. 

“ Yes/’ she said; “ it was the strangest feeling. I 
seemed to be in some dark tomb of a place, and from 
a tower-like window, way above me, I heard voices. 
One said, ‘ I tell you, sir, it must come off. The 
bone is irreparably injured and nothing but amputa- 
tion will save her life ; ’ and then, like a flash, I knew 
I was in bed, and this was some strange man talking 
about my foot. Then I heard Mark’s voice, and oh, 
how good it sounded ! ‘ I beg your pardon, sir, but it 

shall not be amputated. She has every thing in her 
favor : youth, strength, and a naturally good constitu- 
tion, and I believe we can save her, foot and all.’ 
Then I felt perfectly safe and dropped off into uncon- 
sciousness again. 

“ This memory did not come back to me until the 
day you boys went away, when I heard grandma 
telling Mark he belonged to us now, and must not 
think of calling any place home but this. Then it 
all leaped to my mind like a flash of light, and I 
knew your brave stand had saved my foot.” 

“It’s true, Jaca,” said Bert. “That doctor we 
called from the city has a great reputation, and was 
angry enough to think so young a medic as Mark 
would dare oppose him. He’d have had your foot 


382 


TRANSPLANTED. 


off in no time, I tell you, but Webber actually fought 
him, and grandma backed Webber like a good fellow, 
till the old duffer went off in high dudgeon. Then 
Mark sent for Gaylord, and they worked together 
like a pair of shears, and brought you through stand- 
ing.” 

“ And, under God, I owe this to you, brother Mark,” 
said Jacqueline, as she impulsively stepped to his 
side and held out her hand. 

“ I owe more than this to you, sister Jaca,” was 
his earnest response, “ inasmuch as a whole soul is 
better than a whole body. So let there be no obliga- 
tions between us.” 

“ That’s comfortable,” said Bert. “Now, Mark, 
being Jaca’s brother makes you mine, of course, and 
don’t you forget it.” 

“ I’m not likely to,” was the smiling, but earnest, 
answer ; and when, the next Monday, all the ladies 
gave Webber a good-by kiss, just as they did Bert, 
and Mrs. Leavenworth said, in a matter-of-course way, 
“You’ll be home for the Christmas holidays, Mark,” 
he felt that his adoption was, indeed, complete. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Leavenworth would not allow 
Jacqueline to enter school again, but had a very 
accomplished lady to give her lessons, while drawing 
and music teachers came from the city. 

Bessie, who did not feel that graduating from 


CONCLUSION. 


383 


school meant a cessation of learning, studied some 
things with her, and they thus spent several hours 
of the day together. 

For a long time Mrs. Leavenworth was afraid to 
let Jacqueline mount her pony again, but finally con- 
sented, if Jim would ride at her side, his hand on her 
bridle. Prince behaved beautifully, and gradually 
the old fear died away as the girl grew stronger and 
more accustomed to him, while Prince showed such 
an affection for her that he would whinny whenever 
he heard her voice, and, if loose, follow her all about 
the yard. So she had many a fine canter, when the 
weather would permit. 

Every day she visited her hospital, which still 
occupied a great deal of her thoughts, and was, in- 
deed, growing noted for the good it did. 

In the early spring, the only child of a wealthy 
gentleman of the town having died, he endowed it 
with five thousand dollars, to be known as the “ Mary 
Landon Fund,” and a memorial for his well-beloved 
child, which enabled them to increase its capacity ; 
while an ornamental extension was added to the 
front, to give a reception-room, office, etc., below, and 
extra rooms above. 

One or two more attendants were also hired, to 
assist the Treats in their increasing labors. 

One day, as Mrs. Leavenworth, Mr. Randall, and 


384 


TRANSPLANTED . 


Jacqueline were talking it over, that gentleman 
said, — 

“ What we need now is a resident physician, whom 
we can always depend upon. Dr. Wise is growing 
old, and these new practitioners I know little about. 
Besides, they have their regular work. There should 
be a physician right in the house — or grounds, at 
least — ready for any emergency, night or day.” 

“Oh,” said Jacqueline, “how I wish it could be 
Mark ! ” 

“ And why not ? ” said her grandmother smilingly. 
“ I have seen this want for some time, and have been 
planning for it. Now, hear what I have to suggest. 
I have never yet given any large sum to this ‘ hobby ’ 
of Jacqueline’s, not because I did not feel interested, 
but simply because I wanted to let you, my dear, 
feel it was upon your hands, and that you could not 
too easily fall back upon me. I think parents often 
assume too much responsibility for their children in 
such things, and so take all the pith and interest out 
of their generous schemes. This I would not do; 
but you have shown courage, good management, and 
a sincere desire to deny yourself, so now I want to 
have the pleasure of doing something, also. I will 
buy the lot to the south, which, you know, is for 
sale, and remove the old house which stands there 
farther back, to be made into a surgery, laboratory, 


CONCLUSION. 


385 


and office. Then I will build upon the old founda- 
tion a new cottage, in the Queen Anne style, which 
shall be an ornament to the grounds, and a home 
for our resident physician, Dr. Webber , whose salary, 
fixed at a comfortable figure, I will pay yearly, out 
of certain property which has, of late, been bringing 
a larger interest than ever before.” 

“0 grandma!” cried Jacqueline, “that will be 
too grand for any thing ! ” 

“ Really, you couldn’t do better, my friend,” added 
Mr. Randall warmly; and when the plan was pro- 
posed to Mark, he accepted it with grateful willing- 
ness, saying it would give him the chance for study 
that he so much needed, and assure him a very com- 
fortable income and pleasant home. 

So it was agreed that, in the following autumn, 
when he should be released from his engagement at 
college, the home should be ready for the doctor, 
and he for the home. 

About the time he took possession, a letter came 
from Theo, with the joyful news that the picture 
upon which she had been so long engaged was ac- 
corded a place in the Salon , and was also well 
hung. 

“ Uncle is the proudest man you ever saw,” she 
wrote, “ and actually makes a goose of himself, going 
and gazing at it by the hour. By the way, he is 


38U 


TUANS PL A N TED. 


getting so attached to Paris, I don’t know as I shall 
ever get him home when I am ready to go myself. 
He has become a regular institution in the Champs 
d’Elysees, and nearly all its frequenters have a bow 
and smile for ‘ V Americain qui rit,’ as our madame 
says they call him ; and no wonder, for he is always 
on a broad grin, from the time he leaves the door till 
his return. 

“As for me, I have little time for street-gazing, 
except as I take a holiday, now and then, when I 
see so much I go home actually bewildered. What 
you tell me of Mark Webber is very delightful. He 
will be thoroughly happy there, I know. How I 
long to see you all, and especially the youngest in- 
mate, who must now be a most charming little miss ! 
How many teeth has she ? 

“ So Ted can really walk with a cane ! Isn’t that 
too good ? 

“O Jacqueline, when one uses money as your 
family do, what a blessing it becomes ! I often turn 
from the luxury and splendor here with a feeling 
almost of loathing, so sharp are the contrasts with 
the poverty, perhaps just around the corner. It 
seems so selfish, so heartless ! ” . . . 

Jacqueline laid down the closely written letter of 
many thin, foreign-looking sheets, which she had 
been reading aloud, and looked across to Arlene, who 


CONCLUSION . 


387 


sat sewing opposite, while baby Celia played at her 
feet. 

“ Aunt Arl,” she asked dreamily, “do you think 
Theo will ever come back ? ” 

“ Yes, Jaca ; why not ? ” 

“ But if she gets to be a fine artist there, will she 
care to ? Would she ever be happy to settle down 
here to an every-day life like ours ? ” 

“ What do you think, Mark ? ” asked Mrs. Harper, 
looking up with a mischievous smile to the figure 
which had just darkened the doorway. 

“ I think — she will — in time,” was the rather 
disconnected reply, and the young man’s bronzed 
cheeks took on a deeper color than usual. 

Jacqueline sprang up quickly. 

“ Mark, is it so ? Will she come to — the cottage, 
and to you ? ” 

“She has promised it, Jaca, next year.” 

“ The dear girl ! I congratulate you. Why, Mark, 
how charming it will be ! — and that big room beyond 
your laboratory, in the old building, where the sky- 
light is, would make her a splendid studio, wouldn’t 
it?” 

“So your grandmother and I thought, when we 
were planning it,” he answered demurely, and Bert’s 
hearty laugh behind him was echoed by Arlene’s 
within. 


388 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ I declare, you’ve all known it but I,” exclaimed 
Jacqueline, as near pouting as she ever could be. 

“ No, no, little friend ; don’t say that,” said Mark 
quickly. “ Your grandmother is the only one I ever 
told. It was all conjecture with the rest.” 

“ Only we’re Yankees at guessing, and you aren’t ; 
eh, Jaca?” cried Bert teasingly. “Come on, baby, 
let's ride to Boston,” and, catching up the pretty, 
golden-haired little sprite, he began racing up and 
down the room with her, to the entire extinguishment 
of further talk. 

It is two years later — a soft, fragrant evening in 
June — and the Leavenworth house has an unwonted 
air of festivity about it. 

Lights gleam in the windows and flash from se- 
cluded corners of the grounds, while in the large 
rooms are gathered nearly all the friends whom we 
have met here before, and many new ones, to wel- 
come Bert on the completion of his collegiate course. 

The handsome, even distinguished-looking young 
B. A., is leaning on the back of a large chair, where 
sits Mrs. Leavenworth, like a queen in state — for who 
can be more of a queen than she who reigns by love 
over the hearts of children and grandchildren ? The 
wee Celia, pet of the household, is examining an 
album on her knee, while Arlene, grown a trifle 


CONCLUSION. 


889 


stouter, but still very charming in her thin black 
dress with cherry trimmings, hovers near awaiting a 
good chance to bear her off to bed, when she has 
finished the endless stories she is telling “ Bamma ” 
and “ Umple Be’t,” about the photographs ; while 
George and Bessie look on, laughing at the little 
witch. 

Bessie has grown to be a beautiful young woman 
with rather regal airs that become her well, but has 
the same brilliant smile and hearty friendliness of 
manner, that belonged to the girl who promised Miss 
Patty to stand by Jacqueline through everything, — 
a promise which she has well redeemed. If in time — 
a short time probably — she becomes her sister in name 
as she has long been in feeling, we need not be greatly 
surprised. 

At a little distance is another group, the centre of 
which seems to be a tall, dark-eyed young lady, with 
an indescribably sweet, spirituelle face, and an undu- 
lating form that seems almost to float in the delicate 
pink of her robes as she stands talking, with an ear- 
nestness natural to her, to jolly Mr. Hapgood and Mr. 
Randall, who have scarcely changed at all in appear- 
ance. Leaning on a chair, and drinking in every word, 
is a tall, fine-looking young man, with a dark mus- 
tache, who wears the uniform of a naval officer. 

“ Oh, hear ! hear ! ” he cries in a deep voice. 


390 


TRANSPLANTED. 


“ Theo, come to your uncle’s defence. Jacqueline 
hasn’t left him a leg to stand on,” and, at his laugh- 
ing command, there advances a young woman of such 
hue presence, and perfect costume, that she seems for 
the moment to throw all the rest into the shade. 

“ What is it, Arthur ? ” she asks merrily. 

“Oh, it’s a discussion on alms-giving, and your 
uncle is upholding the idea of relegating it all to law, 
and doing away entirely with private charities.” 

“I’m afraid 1 can’t support him then,” laughs Theo, 
in her pleasant contralto voice. “ Public charities and 
legal enactments are well and good, but they are 
heartless things after all. I can imagine even a beg- 
gar being made the happier, because of a sympathetic 
smile given with the piece of bread. No, I feel that 
I would rather be imposed upon a good many times, 
than turn one needy person from my door, and what 
I can do of good, I must say I like to make a personal 
affair, not perhaps so much for the needy one’s good 
as my own.” 

“ But one gets so tired of giving, don’t you think ? ” 
asks Charlie Talbot, joining the group. “ It seems as 
if, nowadays, every one was an impostor.” 

“ I haven’t found it so,” says Jacqueline thought- 
fully. “ It seems to me, indeed, that there are many 
poor who conceal their need as long as they possibly 
can, and then there are always the little children ; 


CONCLUSION. 


391 


surely, they are not to tlame if their natural protec- 
tors leave them unprovided for ? ” 

“ No business to be alive,” cries Mr. Hapgood, with 
a sly twinkle that shows how little he means the 
words. “ Dr. Webber, come here ! I want you to put 
your wife through a course of discipline. She’s taking 
sides against her old uncle.” 

“ Really, my dear,” laughs Mark, coming forward 
and laying a hand on Theo’s shoulder, “ if that’s the 
case I shall cease to be jealous. I’ve always thought 
Uncle Jonas the only man to whom you were thor- 
oughly devoted. I’m sincerely pleased to find myself 
mistaken. However, isn’t it a rather ridiculous idea 
for a man who spends his life in secret good works to 
be arguing like this ? ” 

“ Especially,” puts in Jacqueline, so softly that 
only the kind old gentleman can hear, “ to one who 
has found you her right hand man in her own pet 
charity, which, by the way, she might never have 
thought of but for her experiences of public and pri- 
vate charity before she was — transplanted.” 

Then Bert’s voice breaks in, — 

“ A song ! a song ! Come, every body, grandmother 
wants a song ; ” and so their thoughts flow off into 
lighter channels ; for where there is peace, sincerity, 
and love, the heart is light, the present full of joy, 
and the future, of faith and hope. 









































































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